


Dancing in the Dark

by Siriusfanatic



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusfanatic/pseuds/Siriusfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gambit is adjusting to life with Logan at the Institute and learning to become an X-Men, but ghosts from his past won't seem to quit haunting him. Logan's feelings for his new lover are tested when he learns just exactly what happened to Gambit in those lost six months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> * a follow up fic to "Not All That Wander Are Lost"

 

                Old habits die hard.

                This is what Logan thought as stood, leaning over the back of the soft suede couch that stood in one of the X-Mansion’s many community spaces, holding a steaming mug of coffee in his hands, and looking down at the sleeping man below him.

                Remy always went to bed with him, but rarely did he stay there, unless Logan kept him up all night. At first it bothered Logan, then he slowly came to realize Remy’s perpetual couch surfing was no different than his need to go off into the wilderness alone every so often, and let the animal inside him run free. It was instinct; habit, what have you.

                It had been two months since Gambit had joined the X-Men. Things hadn’t been exactly quiet; there was always some shit being stirred up somewhere, but on a scale of one to invasion by Sentinel, things had been pretty laid back mission wise. He was grateful for this, because the transition hadn’t been completely smooth.

                Scott, for one, had not exactly been thrilled at Wolverine’s abrupt request for a relative stranger to join their ranks. He was all for taking Remy on as a student of the school, but an actual _X-Man_ was something different, something sacred. But Wolverine held more weight with the Professor than maybe ol’ One Eye had guessed. Another thing that had him steaming and grumbling and shooting Logan nasty looks across the room, assigning him the shitty tasks and battering him in training exercises.

                Logan took it all in stride. Scott should be happy; he didn’t have to worry about Jean running off him anymore, or Logan leering at her down the hallway. He was having much more fun playing cat and mouse with the elusive Cajun, who liked to practice his stealth by sneaking around the estate, and seeing how long it too Logan to find him.

                Remy sighed in his sleep and rubbed his face further into the pillow and Logan chuckled at the face he made in his sleep. The man below him cracked open an eye and blinked up at him with those strange ruby pupils. “Whatchu want, you creeper?” he chuckled, reaching up to scratch Logan’s cheek.

                “Always wandering off, eh Gumbo? Gonna have to wear you out more I guess, if I wanna keep ya in my bed.”

                “Sorry, cher,” Remy yanked, sitting up and rubbing his back and his neck. “Just—“

                “Habits, I know. But my bed had plenty of room for both of us, and you have your own room if you want it. Only you never seem to go there.”

                “Why I need dat when I keep all my t’ings with you?” his lover asked.

                Logan handed him the mug of coffee and Gambit took it gratefully, gulping down a hot mouthful and sighing as it ran down into his stomach and warmed him. Outside it was still snowing faintly, but not sticking, leaving everything cold and grey and slushy. The red head looked at it and shivered, huddling deeper into his coat. He was not at all used to the cold damp weather of Westchester New York.

                “Don’t know if I’ll ever get used ta dis cold,” he mumbled as Logan came around to sit beside him, draping one big arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “Don’t know how you stand it, seen you go out at night in the snow in hardly more den your skin.”

                Logan grinned; “Got a thick layer of fur to keep me warm,” he chuckled, scratching at the dark curls that were poking up at the little gap in his flannel shirt. Remy chuckled and scratched at the hair himself, “Yeah, I _know._ I like dat hair, it’s warm and silky.”

                “Ew, are you guys talking about Wolverine’s _chest hair?_ ” a voice interrupted them. Both men looked back to see a young woman, petite with short cropped black hair, wearing a bright pink cropped sweater and bagging cargo pants, observing them from the other side of the couch. “Gross.”

                “No one asked ya to ease drop,” Logan chided her, still smirking. “Ain’t ya got class, Jubes?”

                “It’s Saturday.”

                The girl turned her eyes to Remy, whom she had taken an immediate interest in. “Wanna go down to that dumpy diner and have breakfast? Come on, Remy, please!”

                “What time is it?” Gambit mumbled, still feeling sleep crust his eyes and glanced around for a clock.

                “It’s almost ten! Come on, you promised me we could hang out!”

                “That I did,” he amended with a shrug. “Alright, petite, give me a few minutes ta clean up, and I take ya out in dis miserable slush. But you buying me all de coffee I can drink, d’accord?”

                “If that means ‘okay’, then yes!” She leaned over and kissed his cheek before darting off. She had almost left the room entirely before leaning back and yelling; “Logan, you’re coming too! And don’t wear that stupid hat!”

                The feral mutant sighed as Remy smiled slyly at him, “Dat girl got you wrapped around her little finger.”

                “You ain’t too far behind, Gumbo, the way she fawns all over you like you’re her latest girl friend. Thicker than thieves, I swear.”            

                “Well of course, we thieves and cast offs gotta stick together.” He finished another swig of the coffee, which was already too cold for his liking and stood up and stretched, allowing Logan to see a flash of his naval. The dark haired man licked his lips and tugged the man closer by his belt buckle. “Let’s say we do something special tonight, you and me? Go and out and relax.”

                “Hmm, sounds cozy. You gotta place in mind?”

                “Yeah, just a little dive bar, more your speed than mine. Thought we could try it out.”

                Remy leaned down and kissed his gently. “Je’tame, mon cher. I see you in a few, gotta shower and change.”

                “Alright, don’t keep ‘er waiting too long, or believe me she’ll think of a hundred other errands for us today, and I am not spending another two hundred dollars at the mall for things that ain’t even mine!”

                “Growl, growl, growl all you want, Wolvie, she don’t hear you!” Gambit called back playfully, leaving Wolverine to sulk alone before deciding to go to his room and grab his biggest gawdest belt buckle and tan Stetson hat, just for spite.

 

**

 

                The sleepy gloom that had enveloped the town lingered long into the afternoon, wind gusting and bringing with it wet flurries of snow that melted upon reaching the ground. Gambit sat huddled in the booth across from Logan and Jubilee, as the young girl filled them in on the latest gossip around the mansion.

                “So, Scott has seemed pretty peeved at you lately,” the youth said, nudging Logan’s elbow as he shoveled another fork full of bacon and eggs into his mouth. “What’d you do this time?”

                “Dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe I breathed too close ta him, or maybe our tighty-whites touched in the wash. Who the hell knows.”

                “You don’t wear white briefs,” Remy corrected with a sly smile over the lip of his coffee mug. “You like dem black ones. When you wear anyt’ing at all.”

                “Ew, really!” Jubilee squealed and Logan snorted and shot his lover a warning look.

                “Watch yer mouth around the kid. God, don’t go giving her any mental images that’ll give her nightmares.”

                “Desole, Wolvie.”

                Logan glanced out the glass windows and spotted the car they had taken and the meter in front of it. “Gonna go feed the meter, be right back.” He slid out of the booth and sauntered off, leaving his companions alone.

                The waitress came by and refilled Remy’s coffee cup again and Jubilee finally gave up on the last little bits of her pancake stack. “Thanks for coming out, Remy. I know it’s probably a little silly to you, hanging out with a kid like me.”

                “Not at all, petite,” he replied. “You good company. I enjoy our little tete et tete.”

                She grinned, always faintly tickled by his accent. “Me too. I think. How are you and Logan getting along? Do you like staying at the mansion?”

                “C’est bon, chere,” he answered, picking at his own plate of eggs, which he had hardly touched. “Your Logan is very good to me. I thank my lucky stars every day I found him, or he found me. As for de Mansion…it’s an adjustment.”

                “Gotta be better than sleeping in a subway,” she replied, gulping down her smoothie. Remy blinked and she flushed a little bit. “Oh…sorry. I, uh, heard some of the others talking…”

                Remy huddled further back into his coat, now having lost all interest in his food. He plucked his deck of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle them, as was his habit whenever he felt bored or anxious. “Dey talk about me a lot, ‘can imagine. I make dem uncomfortable.”

                “You make _Scott_ uncomfortable. But he’s a good guy, he’ll come around. Everyone else says you mostly just keep to yourself, unless you’re doing card tricks or magic.”

                “I don’t do magic,” Remy replied, though he charged one of his cards and allowed it float through the air towards Jubilee, who caught it and watched it changed shape, turning into a flower for her before disintegrating. “Just tricks.”

                “You are so cool.”

                Gambit laughed and she missed the ironic smirk at the corner of his mouth, “Well, dere is somet’ing to be said for showmanship. And Remy ain’t got nothin’ if he ain’t got a certain _savoir faire._ ”

                He glanced out the window, searching for Logan and wondering what was keeping the man, when the waitress sidled up along side him and slid the check to him. “Will that be all for you, honey?”

                “I t’ink so, chere. Thank you for de service, “ he said, giving her a little wink and watching her skitter away with a smile.

                “Do you ever turn that charm off?” Jubilee asked.

                Gambit smiled, almost sadly. “Wish I could, petite. Wish I could.” He opened the little black book and saw there on top of the receipt a hastily scrawled note.

                _The time for hide and seek is done. You’ve run out of room to run._

                The Cajun paled and dropped the booklet, which clattered onto the table and knocked over his coffee, which went spilling into his lap. He cursed and jumped up and Jubilee quickly made to dab up the mess. “Hey, everything okay?”

                “Oui, petite…” Remy mumbled, still clutching the scrap of paper in his hand, just out of her sight. “I’m gonna go clean up. Tell Logan I be right back.” He ducked down the isle to the restroom and slid through the little red door, shutting and locking it behind him.

                Once there he flattened himself against the door and held his breath, feeling a shudder of terror go through him. The note was not signed, but Remy knew it could have only come from one source. He moved to the sink and turned on the cold water, ignoring the empty stall behind him, and splashed his face and neck, trying to calm his panicked breathing.

                How in the hell could Essex have tracked him here? He had been so careful, covering his tracks. His last mission with the X-Men had taken place decidedly out of the area, and he felt certain he would be under the radar. Had he guessed wrong?

                Something moved behind him and Remy reached for his cards, turning and pinning the assailant to the wall, his arm crushing down on his throat in a choke hold, card ready to explode.

                “You so much as touch me and I’ll—“ his words faultered when he realized he was staring at an unfamiliar face, who was looking at him with completely blank eyes.

                “Don’t be too hasty, Remy,” Essex’s voice spoke through the man’s lips. Gambit backed off, but only just so, still ready to fight.

                “I see you still in de business of climbing into other people’s heads. Dangerous practice, Essex, one of these days you’re gonna find one you can’t handle.”

                “Perhaps. But let’s not talk about me, Remy. I’m far more concerned about _you_.”

                “Dat’d be a first.”

                “You think I don’t care about you, my young friend, but truly I do. You’re welfare, your betterment, has always been at the forefront of my mind.”

                “Shut _up!_ You just try ta come after me dis time, _Sinister_ , you might find I’m harder ta catch. Got friends now, friends that would be very interested to know what you’ve been up to.”

                “So why don’t you tell them?” the possessed man asked, smirking. Gambit snarled and tried to move away, but found that he was seized and thrown to the floor, the man’s foot on his chest. Gambit made to grab him and heave him off, but his assailant leaned close, covering his mouth with his hand.

                “It’s not me you should be running from, my dearest _Gambit._ Right now, you have much bigger problems to worry about than what I will do when I catch you.”

“What are you talking about?” Remy sneered under his hand.

“Your old friends, _The Marauders_ , seemed to have failed miserably in the last mission I sent you on, and some very disgruntled mutants seem to be out for reparations. You are not exempt from their vengeance, Remy. That I can assure you.”

Gambit kicked the man off him and sent him flying into the door. “You’re _lying._ You’re always lying, twisting your words, tryin’ ta fuck w’it me. Not anymore. I’m free of you. _My debt is paid!_ ”

“Is it, Remy? Is it?”

Gambit shuddered, hearing curious movement outside the door now and someone testing the knob. “Come home, and I will forgive all this treachery. I can protect you, Gambit. The X-Men can’t.”

“No deal, Sinister. I told you last time…you can no longer afford me.” He punched the man, hard enough to knock him cold. As he sagged the ground the door jarred open, revealing the manager and the waitress and behind them Logan.

“What the hell is going on in here?!” The manager yelled.

Remy pushed past him, shaking his knuckles. “Don’t know, homme. Maybe you ought to get dat man to a doctor, t’ink he’s a little punch drunk, and _frisky.”_

They blinked in confusion and Remy swept past them, Logan moving close beside him. “You alright?”

“I’m fine, let’s go home.”

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

 

***

 

                Wolverine waited until he was sure Jubilee was no longer trying to listen in on the conversation, before he turned to Gambit. “Wanna start explaining?”

                “Not particularly, non,” the younger man replied, not looking at his lover as he peeled off his boots and reluctantly slid out of his coat, busying himself with finding clean clothing. “De jerk got handsy, dat’s all.”

                Logan folded his arms across his chest, eyeing the younger man. “That so? The guy put his hands on ya?”

                Gambit nodded curtly, continuing to avoid eye contact with the feral. “Ya know I can smell when someone is lying to me.” Wolverine reminded him, trying to sound calmer than he felt. Gambit stilled for a moment, then grabbed a handful of clothing from the closet and swept past Logan, making for the door.

                Wolverine caught his arm, “Don’t run away. I ain’t angry. I’m _worried_. Ya gotta learn to talk to me about shit, Gumbo, you ain’t alone in this. Not anymore.”

                “Dere’s nothing to talk about.”

                “Remy…”

                The thief wriggled out of his grasp. “Logan, let it go. _Please._ ”

                The dark haired man snorted, “Fine.” He muttered, “if you’re gonna be stubborn and stupid ain’t much I can do about it.”

                Remy darted off and Logan slammed the door behind him, immediately wishing he hadn’t. The other man’s secretive nature got under his skin sometimes, made Logan feel helpless and frustrated. Worst of all, it reminded him of someone he had forgotten long ago; his younger self.

 

**

                Remy found solace in the Danger Room, where he could work out his frustrations and his fears in privacy. At first the holographic program had startled him, even intimidated him, but after a few weekly training sessions with Logan he was getting the hang of it.

                He had decimated a small army, and taken down several mutant hunting robots. He was gleaming with sweat and breathless, heart thundering in his ears and muscles aching dully from the strenuous workout. But he was no less troubled about what had transpired in the diner.

                He had dropped his guard for a moment, leaning on the retractable bow staff he had been given by the team, catching his breath. He did not see a sniper robot come out of the shadows towards him, ready to blast his head off.

                He turned a moment too late, but the shot, (which would not have done more than stun him), was blocked by a bright red blast. Remy looked up to see that another player had entered the game; namely Cyclops.

                “You look like you could use a break,” his fellow teammate spoke then, moving closer to him. “How long you been in here?”

                “Not sure, couple o’ hours.” Remy panted, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Thanks for the assistance.”

                “No problem.” He glanced around at the wreckage. “Pretty impressive. Your control is getting better.” He noted, before putting his hands on his hips, “At least in here. Everything okay, Gambit?”

                Remy chuckled ruefully, leaning on his staff as he pushed his sweaty hair from his face, “Word sure does travel fast around here, I’ll give ya dat.”

                “Well, you’ll have that in place where so many people have super hearing. Especially when those people are gossipy teenagers in my class.” He looked seriously at the young man, noting that he was not much older than him. “Should I be expecting a phone call from the police?”

                Gambit picked up the staff, spun it expertly and then retracted it, tucking it inside the belt of his uniform and stalked away from him, glowering into the depths of the hologram. “I seriously doubt it. Was nothin’ more den a little misunderstanding that got a bit rough.”

                “ _You_ got rough. That’s not how we handle things here, Remy. You aren’t on the streets of New Orleans anymore. There are rules, a code of conduct—“

                “Dat what you teachin’ dese kids, M’sieur Summers? To stand dere and take it from whatever piece of trash sees fit to harass dem? You teachin’ dem to be cowards?” he growled. “You wouldn’t have lasted two minutes in my world, Cyclops. So forgive Remy if it takes him some time to adjust to yours.”

                “Gambit, I’m only trying to help. Civilians need to learn to trust us, to stop seeing us as a threat. They can’t do that when things like this happen. I’m not blaming you, you have a right to defend yourself, but I just wish you had handled it differently.”

                Scott looked at Remy’s hands and saw that there were little pink sparks crackling from them and that the man seemed to be trembling, his jaw clenched hard. “May I ask you a question, homme?” he muttered, voice tight and hard.

                “Of course,” Scott replied tentatively.

                “You ever had someone hurt you? Someone take away your right to say yes or no? Someone treat you like you less den a person? You ever find yourself fighting for your life when you can barely hold yourself up cause you so tired and you so damn cold and you ain’t eaten in days, but some fucker comes along and decides you look like fun? You ever been beaten just cause you look the way you do?”

                Scott didn’t answer, but his gaze turned to the ground. “No, Remy. I haven’t.”

                “Den maybe next time you t’ink about dat before you open your mouth ta me.” He turned to walk away, but Scott was moving behind him, trying to catch him.

                “We’ve all had it hard, Gambit, so don’t give me your little sob story. You aren’t the only one who’s suffered! We’re supposed to rise _above_ these things, not use them as excuses. Why don’t you ask Logan sometime about what he’s been through, maybe it’ll take you down a few pegs.”

                The redhead turned on him with blazing eyes and Scott took a step backwards. “ _Logan_ doesn’t treat me like I’m a criminal. _Logan_ doesn’t watch me when he t’inks I’m not looking, ta make sure I don’t make off with something. _Logan_ doesn’t patronize me!”

                “Logan doesn’t _have_ to watch you. He can smell you. You make it easy for him to keep an eye on you, and don’t think he doesn’t. He may be in love with you, LeBeau, but that man is no fool. You prove to be anything but what you say, and I won’t have to deal with you. _He_ will.”

                Gambit bellowed and threw one of his cards at the man, letting it explode across his chest. The charge was not very big, and Cyclops was thankfully wearing his armored uniform, but it blew him back several feet, knocking him into a wall.

                Remy paled and dropped the rest of the deck, moving to check on the man, afraid he had hurt him seriously. Just before he reached him however, Scott caught him with his own blast, and Remy shouted as it burned him and flung him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

                Scott pushed himself to his feet, brushing away the singed bits of his uniform and checking his skin for injures but it was little more than bruised and tender. “Stay down, Remy. I’ll call Hank.”

                Gambit ignored him however, pushing himself up and nursing his burned shoulder. “Didn’t ask for your help,” he muttered.

                “Stay _down_!” Scott commanded again.

                “Fuck you!”

                He reached for something in his belt and Cyclops acted out of instinct, punching the man hard and knocking him cold. Only when Remy went limp did he see he hadn’t been reaching for a weapon but rather his communicator.

                Scott cursed and signaled the program to end, immediately heading towards the wall to call for assistance. He bent beside Gambit and looked at the wound he’d dealt him. It wasn’t a very wide burn, maybe two inches, but it was long and the skin was raw and singed at the edges. It could have been so much worse if Gambit hadn’t been wearing his own protective gear, and Scott cringed at the thought.

                “Dammit, Logan, why did you have to bring back someone who’s as stubborn as you?” he sighed.

 

**

                Logan came barreling down the corridor towards the medical wing, hands clenched and the tips of his claws showing as he huffed and grunted. He plowed through the automated doors, searching for Remy.

                Jean grabbed hold of him however, one hand on his chest and the other on his arm. “Logan, he’s okay, you’ve got to calm down.”

                “Get off me, Jeanie, I need to see him.” He shrugged past her, though she followed at his heel, and turned the corner, spotting Hank standing behind a partially drawn curtain. The blue furred mutant turned to him as Logan tossed back the curtain and looked at Remy lying on the gurney. The kid had a growling purple welt under his eye, and Hank had peeled him out of his cat suit down to the waist so that he could clean and bandage the burn on his shoulder.

                Logan bent over him for a moment, but his lover was still thoroughly unconscious. He turned towards Hank, “Where the fuck is he?”

                “Logan, calm down.”

                “The danger room didn’t do that to him, _he did_! Now where is he!?”

                “I’m right here, Wolverine.” Scott replied, emerging from behind him, Jean at his side. Logan grabbed for him, dragging him forward. “You little _shit_! What he’d do, look at ya funny!? You _hurt_ him!”

                “It was an accident,” Scott amended, “and he attacked me first, in case you’re wondering.”

                The dark haired man blinked, seeing that Scott did look a bit battered as well, and recognized the smell of one of Gambit’s explosions still lingering on his skin.

                “Gentlemen, there will be no fighting, is that very clearly understood?” Hank reminded them, usually calm refined voice edging on a growl. Logan let go of his team leader with a snarl.”Yer a real piece of work, Summers.”

                “He’s unstable, Logan, surely you can see that! That’s why I didn’t want him on the team. Why don’t you review the tape from the Danger Room and you’ll see what I mean!”

                “Dat won’t be necessary,” Remy mumbled suddenly from behind them. Hank turned to him first, putting a hand behind the Cajun as he struggled to sit up. “Scott’s right, I hit ‘im first. He was only defending himself.”

                “Nevermind that,” Logan replied, moving close to him, turning his face over in his hand gently. “You okay, darlin’?”

                “Felt better, felt worse.” Remy mumbled, but there was no energy in his voice, just resignation and apathy. “Desole, Scott. You were right…I ain’t got no business bein’ an X-Men.”

                “Gambit, please, let’s talk about this.”

                Remy slid off the table and wobbled a little, rubbing his bruised face. “Helluva hook you have, homme.”

                Logan looped an arm around him. “We’re going to bed. We’ll talk about this mess later.” He replied, slipping past them. Jean watched them go, and when Remy passed she got a wave of energy off him that made her tense.

                Empaths and Telepath’s often clashed, even a low level one like Gambit. Jean got a flash of memory from him, emotion, saw faces and heard broken bits of conversation. She reached out and grabbed Scott’s hand, who looked at her in concern.

                “Honey? What is it?”

                “Scott…he’s suffering. There’s something terrible, in Remy’s past, something he’s still reeling from. Something that has him very afraid.”

                ‘Should we talk to Charles about it?”

                “No…he still doesn’t trust us enough yet. I just hope he’ll come around, before whatever it is he’s afraid of catches up with him.”

 

                Instead of taking Gambit back to their room, Logan grabbed a duffle bag from the locker in the garage and helped the kid into his car. Remy said nothing, utterly passive through the whole ordeal, which troubled Logan more than anything. He sensed the kid was afraid, growing despondent and anxious. As they pulled out of the drive, he glanced over at him.

                “Stop thinkin’ what yer thinkin’.” He said quietly. “You and I are gonna go take a breather from this place. There’s a little hiking resort couple miles outta town, I know the owners. We’ll take one of their cabins for the rest of the weekend, just you and me.” He reached over and clutched Remy’s hand in his, lifting it to kiss his knuckles. “We’re gonna get drunk and fuck like rabbits. Sound good to you, Cajun?”

                “Tres bon, cher,” Gambit answered, but his voice still lacked it’s usual warmth and charm.

                “You hurtin’?”

                “Non, except my head is ringing.”

                “Close your eyes, gonna take about an hour ta get there.”

                Gambit slumped against the car door, huddled in his coat that Logan had brought him, and let his gaze wander to the rushing trees and telephone poles until he was all but in a trance, his mind replaying Essex’s warning and Scott’s words over and over in his head.

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

 

***

 

                They drove a little further upstate, where the snows were heavier and the land was wilder and the houses were fewer. Gambit wasn’t sure he’d ever seen this much bare country laid out in front of him. He kept flickering sleepy glances towards Logan, noting his silhouette against the car window and thinking how oddly right the dark haired burly man looked against the harsh backdrop of snow and forest. It was like he was looking at a wolf given human form.

                They pulled up a long gravel road that lead to an old house with several signs. Remy didn’t catch the name of the place, his eyes were burning and he kept finding himself nodding off. One minute Logan was in the car, the next he was alone. He blinked again, and Logan had returned, driving them a little further up the road to a secluded little cabin located at the edge of a deep thicket of snowy pines and barren oaks.

                Remy slid out of the side door, standing in the wind, gazing at the little house as Logan grabbed the duffel bag from the back seat and motioned Remy to follow him up the little path that lead to the cabin’s front door. Remy ducked under the eve of the porch, glad to be out the damp, as his partner turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

                It was small, one room with a loft upstairs for sleeping and at least one bathroom. It was rustic, but not primitive. There was a microwave, a stove and fridge, along with a TV and stereo near a comfortable looking couch.

                Logan tossed the duffel bag on a chair by the door and shrugged out of his coat, offering to take Remy’s, who reluctantly accepted. He left the Cajun standing by the door as he moved inside, heading first to the fireplace and tossing several logs into it from the pile provided and finding a match.

                Gambit rubbed his arms and slunk into a chair, maintaining the silence between them. He watched Logan work, wondering what the man was thinking. He didn’t exactly look pleased, but then again Wolverine usually had a distant or sullen expression on his face when no one was looking. He thought about what Scott had said to him, and wondered what other demons were inside his lover’s head that made him look that way.

                Once the fire was going, Logan eased down on the edge of the brick stoop in front of it and looked to Remy. “I’m ready when you are.”

                “What?” Gambit mumbled, almost startled by the broken silence.

                “To come clean about what happened in the diner. Did he find ya? This Essex fella, or Sinister, or whatever you call him. He catch up with ya?”

                The leaner man remained blinking at him silently from the chair and Logan continued; “I love ya, Rems. I know you feel the same. So we gotta start takin’ chances on each other, trusting that the other won’t bail out the moment things aren’t perfect. Cause I gotta tell ya, I have a _lot_ of imperfect days, and I got a lot of ugly things inside me. If that’s too much for ya to handle, then we best call it quits while we can still be friends.”

                Remy moved out of the chair and came to kneel in front of Logan, studying the man’s face as he put his arms around him and let Wolverine pull him closer. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do dis, cher. Never had anyone treat me de way you do…least not for very long. Everybody want to have a good time wit Remy, but as soon as de waters get rocky, dey headin’ for shore.”

                “I ain’t like that, darlin’. Nothing worth havin’ comes for free. So come on, dish it out. I can take it, I promise.” He gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Remy leaned in and kissed him softly, toying with his wild black hair.

                “May take some time…”

                “I got all the time in the world, Cajun. Can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend it with than you.”

 

**

               

                For the rest of the day they played cards and watched television, Logan made sandwiches from the stores that were in the fridge and produced two six-packs of beer from the duffel bag, which also contained plenty of money, a couple of changes of clothes, the beer, lubricant and condoms, extra shoes and socks, two hand guns, a first aid kit, and a cell phone.

                They talked little and about nothing at first, and savoring their privacy and the intimacy. Gambit was eager to be close to him again, lying his head in his lap as they watched the football game. The kid was quiet for a time then and Logan had almost thought for sure he was asleep, when he spoke suddenly.

                “Yes. He sent me a message at the diner.”

                Wolverine glance down at him. “A message?”

                “He possessed that man. He can do that; take over people’s minds and use them like puppets.”

                “He ever do that to you?”

                “Not that way,” Remy mumbled. “He’s been in my head though.”

                Logan put a protective hand around the thinner man’s waist. “What did he say?”

                “Tried to get me to go crawling back to him. He used me for research, and got attached I guess. Never understood why. He’s _killed_ more powerful mutant’s den I’ll ever be.”

                “Sounds like a handful. Think we oughta tell Chuck, and get the team on this. If he’s killin’ mutants especially.”

                Remy looked up at him worriedly; “He’s powerful, cher, more den you might t’ink. And completely crazy. You sure de X-Men up to the challenge? I seen him do terrible things in broad day light and have it swept under de rug and forgotten about by de next day. Couldn’t live w’it myself if dat happened w’it you and de others. Especially you.”

                “You don’t have to worry about me, darlin’. I can handle whatever they can dish out.” Remy sat up, looking at Logan closely. “Not just your body I worry for, cher. He can hurt your mind, your soul, twist t’ings all around in dere till you don’t know what end is up. Believe me, I’ve seen it.” He hugged Logan fiercely and the other man blinked in surprise. “Not takin’ a gamble on dat, mon amour.”

                Remy’s control slipped again and Logan got a flash of empathetic memory from him. The kid was in a cell, screaming his guts out with energy pouring off him in waves, while the man called Essex, who looked little more than a juiced up street thug covered in strange tattoos, stood over him, just smiling at the kid’s agony, taking notes of all things.

                Logan held him close, fingers brushing along the old scar on his back. “I know what it’s like to be an experiment.“ he mumbled. Remy pulled him back and kissed him, and Logan felt the kid probing his emotions, searching those old scars on his heart and mind. He wanted to pull back, to make him stop, but if this is what Remy needed to fully trust him, then so be it.

                Gambit was no Telepath, he couldn’t get into his memories the way Jean or Xavier could, but he could follow the rise and fall of Logan’s emotions like a boat on a wave. They were more powerful, dangerous, and less clear. Logan had endured pain no man should, and still come out the other side, not a monster but a _man_. He saw flashes of memory, felt Logan’s pain as he escaped Stryker and wandered the wilderness, his memory in tatters, alone and confused, not knowing who or what he was. Gambit blinked as he felt Logan’s thick fingers stroking his neck, coaxing him back to reality. “Come back, darlin’. It’s alright, I got ya.”

                “Mon Dieu, Logan…” he gasped, face damp with tears. “I didn’t know, I'm so sorry…Scott was right…”

                “Scott? What does he have to do with this?” Logan asked.

                Remy climbed off him, “It’s nothin’, cher. Just a cold dose of reality, I guess. Nothing I didn’t need. Been so wrapped up in my own troubles, I’ve forgotten I ain’t de only one wit ‘em. I’m sorry for that.”

                Logan stood up, following after him, slipping his hand into Remy’s and pressing himself against the man’s long lean back, kissing the little dip between his shoulders. “Let’s agree not to talk about Scooter or the team for the rest of the night. You’re safe with me and the rest will keep until morning.”

                “And what you got in mind for de rest of de evenin’, mon cher?”

                His lover dragged his palm along Gambit’s thigh an earned a pleasant shiver from him. “Something mutually beneficial for both of us, darlin’. Always washes my cares away, at least for awhile.”

 

**

 

                _Whump._

                Gambit jolted, bleary eyed and groggy, from a sound sleep. He blinked around in the darkness, eyes adjusting quickly, but he saw nothing out of place or out of the ordinary within the confines of the little loft.

                He was lying on his back, with Wolverine flopped across him, one arm slung across his chest, his head tucked against Remy’s chest, snoring softly. Gambit scratched his fingers through the man’s hair absently as he continued to look around for the source of the sound that woke him.

                The darkness yielded nothing however, and Remy decided it must have been snow falling off one of the trees outside. He shifted Logan carefully and slid out from under him, grabbing his jeans and boxers from the corner of the bed and slipping them, shivering in the cold.

                He padded silently down the steps the main floor, noting that the fire had burned down to embers. He checked down the thermostat and frowned when it read that the temperature was only sixty seven degrees. This was no place for a hot blooded southern boy.

                He dug around in the duffel bag that was lying on the couch and pulled a heavy sweater over his naked torso. It must have belonged to Logan because it was much too big and sagged off his wiry frame. Whatever, it was warm and smelled clean.

                He continued to wander in the darkness, watching the pale bluish light that shown out from the windows to the snowy landscape beyond. There seemed to be no occupants in the other cabins that Remy could see on the grounds, and the only tire tracks belonged to their car. Even the main lodge house, which was just a blot in the distance, stood silent and nearly dark under the full moon.

                Still Remy knew that something had woke him, and his survival instinct was too ingrained to just let it go as a figment of his imagination. He glanced back up at the loft, and heard Logan roll over in his sleep. The man was out cold, Remy having fucked him to exhaustion. He smirked and blew him a little kiss as he reached for his boots. “Be right back, Wolvie. Just gonna make sure dere no boogie men lurking outside.”

                He grabbed his coat finally and padded out into the chilled night, tugging the trench coat as tight around him as he dared as he slipped out the door. The thin layer of snow that covered the grounds crunched beneath his feet and Gambit struggled to be silent, watching the woods that bordered the lot. Drawing in a lung full of cold air, he hiked towards the dark pines, hands thrust deep into his pockets.

                As he walked, he listened, but there was no sound but his foot falls or the occasional hoot of a barn owl. He glanced back at the cabin, sure he would hear Wolverine following after him soon. But as he did his eyes caught something upon the snow. A tiny splatter of red.

                Remy leaned closer, and held his breath when he realized it was blood. He looked up, and found a tiny trail of the same crimson splatters tainting the pure white ground. He followed them slowly, hands gripping his deck of cards.

                He followed the trail under the shade of the pines, peering into the deep dark bramble of trees beyond. Nothing moved, nothing stirred within the shadows. Gambit remained as still as stag, listening for hunters.

                And then he heard it. Low, muffled, pained. A whimper, a groan. He turned and took off in the direction of the sound, nimble feet scaling snow and leaf covered roots and ducking low hanging branches of sharp pine needles.

                He was only a few yards away, lying in a heap beneath a broken sapling, reeking of blood. Gambit recognized the golden hair on the creature’s hulking form, and the heavy fur around his collar, though he didn’t seem to be wearing his uniform.

                “Creed.”

                The hulking form snarled in the darkness and his golden eyes glinted in the blackness as he lifted his head towards the intruder. “Been a long time, LeBeau…” he growled. His voice was weak and thready, heavy with labored breathing. "Guess ya didn't die after all. Too bad. For you."

                Gambit chanced a few steps closer to him, pulling a card from his pocket and igniting it to create a little light. Creed was wounded, badly, bleeding from too many places to count. The Cajun cursed softly, “What happened to you?”

                Creed laughed softly and it was a horrible sound, followed by gurgling, and Remy lifted the card higher to shed some light on the man’s face. He cried out then, dropping it and letting it fizzle to the ground.

                Creed’s face was mutilated, twisted and deformed. Remy had never seen such a thing before and almost felt pity for the man, until he saw how he sneered, lifting a bloody claw towards him. “Nothin’ that won’t be happenin’ to you very shortly, swamp rat. See…if I manage to bring back you back, they’ll fix my face.”

                Remy realized too late he was too close to the man, who leapt up and lunged towards him. Gambit hurled his cards at the man, who roared ferociously as the explosions singed his already battered skin. But nothing could keep Sabertooth down too long, as the beast was equipped with his own healing factor.

                The redhead ducked into the shadows, knowing he was far more nimble and quick than the hulking brute who chased him. He darted back out into the open, setting off several little explosions that brought down two large pines on Creed’s head.

                Gambit chanced a glance back at the damage, only find Sabertooth bursting through wreckage, sending splinters and needles flying. “Get _back here_ , Gambit! Or I’ll take you back to the Morlocks in _pieces!”_

Remy thought for sure he must have heard wrong. He readied himself with his staff and another hand of charged cards. Already he could sense Wolverine moving towards him. Sabertooth must be out of his mind, maddened by whatever torture had been inflicted on him. The Morlock’s were dead. All dead.

                _Accept one._

                As Sabertooth charged, Gambit brought his staff ringing alongside his head, causing a horrible crack and knocking the beast aside. His enemy kicked out at him, trying to knock him off balance but the thief was too nimble.

                “Can’t say I don’t pity your position, Sabertooth,” Gambit taunted, “but I also can’t say ya didn’t have it comin’ to ya, ya murdering monster!”

                “HA! Ain’t that the pot callin’ the kettle black!” He swiped at Remy and shredded the arm of his jacket, but Gambit flipped away, just out of reach.

                “Ain’t no monster like you! I tried to _save_ dem!”

                “You lead us right to them,” Creed answered chillingly. “You sold them out to save your own skin. Wonder what they’ll do to your pretty face when they get ahold of it.”

                Remy screamed and sent another round of charged cards flying, but Sabertooth powered through them, and managed to slash the man across the chest. Gambit yelped and tumbled backwards in the snow. Sabertooth was about to fall on him when Logan let out a roar of his own, crashing into the beast and tackling him aside.

                The Cajun laid there upon the frozen ground, watching in amazement as the two men battled, teeth bared, eyes gleaming, claws and talons flashing red with blood in the moonlight. Logan was so much smaller than Sabertooth’s towering hulking form, but he was no less fierce, maybe more so. After all, he was protecting his mate.

                “Touch him again, Creed, and I’ll tear that ugly mug clear off your neck!” Wolverine bellowed.

                “Didn’t know you were harboring wanted murders, Logan,” Victor snarled, sneering at Gambit, who fired off another round of cards at him, trying to shut him up. Logan barely avoided the explosion himself, being knocked off balance and allowing Sabertooth to slash him down the back.

                “LOGAN!”

                “Get outta here, Gumbo! I got this!”

                “Remy LeBeau doesn’t run from a fight when his friends need him!” Gambit yelled back, leaping once more into the fray, managing to catapult himself onto Creed’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around the man’s neck and squeezing as hard as he could.

                Creed slashed at him and Remy felt hot blood spill across his skin, but he kept his grip, till he grabbed Sabertooth’s head and twisted it sharply with a satisfying crack. The man toppled to the ground and Remy rolled free, Logan reaching to catch him.

                “That won’t keep him down long, he’ll recover.” Wolverine panted.

                “I know,” Remy answered, “just my luck.”

                Logan scooped him up, eying the freely bleeding wounds on his legs and sides. “Looks like our weekend got cut short, darlin’.”

 

***


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

***

 

                Logan bound Creed’s body and threw it into the trunk of the car. Remy couldn’t watch, the sight being too unsettling for him. Wolverine glanced back at him, “You alright?”

                “Freezing. Let’s get back to the mansion.”

                The black haired feral nodded, moving around to the driver side as Remy slipped into the passenger seat. They pulled out the drive and took a back road, leading away from the lodging house. There was going to be enough hell to pay in the morning when the owners found them gone and blood all over the snow outside.

                “What are we going to do with him?” Remy asked as they drove, hands balled in his armpits beneath his jacket in an effort to warm himself.

                “Hank will run some test, find out what the hell happened to his face. How’d you find him?”

                “He was lying in the woods, bleeding. I heard a noise; it must have been him prowling around the cabin, looking for me.”

                “What does Sabertooth want with you?” Logan asked, and there was an edge to his voice that told Remy that some red flags had gone up in his mind.

                “And how is it _you_ know M’sieur Creed?” Remy asked in turn, raising an eyebrow. Logan frowned and stared out the windshield again, watching the short path laid out by their headlights in the darkness.

                “Creed and I go way back. He was a bastard then and he’s still a bastard now. So I’ll ask you again, what does he want with you?”

                “Had dealings w’it ‘im in de past. Essex used me to find him.”

                “For experiments?”

                “Not that I know of.” Gambit answered at length, “Though I wouldn’t rule it out.”

                Logan nodded, letting the issue drop for now. Gambit was grateful and let himself breathe a little easier. He wasn’t sure how much of his conversation he’d overheard, and whether or not he had considered Creed’s threats and insults as something greater.

                Finally given a moment to think, Gambit began to mull over the words himself. There was no way the Morlocks, a reclusive band of mutant outcast that had made their home in the old forgotten fall-out tunnels below the city, could still be alive, much less have a contract out on them. He had seen with his own eyes how many bodies had littered the tunnels that night. He saw them every night, in fact, always in his dreams.

                Remy had managed to save _one_ ; one girl from the carnage. She was a strange sight to behold, bones sticking out of her skin everywhere like spikes. But her eyes, they had been so wide and lost. He had pulled her from the arms of her dying mother and carried her to safety above ground.

                Gambit had only managed this because the girl had been so small, no more than maybe eighty pounds. He could have done so much more, were he not bleeding out from the wound Sabertooth had dealt for his attempts to stop them.

                He was brought back from the memory by Logan touching his hand. “You were far away just now, darlin’. Got something you wanna talk about?”

                Remy looked at him tentatively in the darkness of the car, illuminated by the occasional yellow flash of a passing street lamp. Here it was, the gauntlet laid out in front of him. He could hold on to the secrets forever and watch them drive away the only thing he cared about, or he could face them head on, for better or worse.

                “You ever heard of de Morlocks?” he asked.

                Logan said nothing, but his jaw was set hard and his eyes kept staring straight ahead.

                “Dey were a colony of mutants dat lived underground in des old fall-out tunnels dey built back before de last world war. The whole world forgot about dem, and dey liked it dat way. Most of dem had powers and abilities that made them dangerous to mainstream society, or dey born wrong; deformed and such. Dey never bothered nobody, but Essex…he looked on dem as everything that was wrong with Mutant kind. He said he wanted to find a way to help dem, find a way to make it easier for dem to fit into society…”

                “And you believed him?”

                “Back den, cher, I did. Didn’t know what kind of man he was den, didn’t know what was under de mask, If had been smarter den maybe…” He looked up then and his eyes went wide. “WATCH OUT!”

                Wolverine gripped the steering wheel hard, swerving abruptly, tires squealing. Someone had wandered out into the middle of the road, directly in their path. They saw on a flash of wide eyes and short, bright pink hair in the headlights. Logan grunted as the car hit a patch of ice, which sent it spinning out of control.

                They crashed into the guard rail, going right through it, which caused the car to flip and roll, tumbling down the steep heel on the side of the highway, just before a small bridge. Silence followed the aftermath of the crash, and for a moment practically nothing moved on the isolated patch of road.

                Gambit came to, all the blood rushing to his head as he dangled from his seat, arms scraping the tattered roof of the car, which was now covered in shattered bits of glass. “Ooooh _shit_ …Logan…cher, you okay?” he mumbled, trying to shake the daze from his head as he tried free himself from his seatbelt.

                But as he glanced over in the dark, he found that Logan was not in the car. Panic immediately set in, coursing through him like an electric shock. He struggled hard against the belt, but it seemed to be jammed. “Logan!? Come on, mon ami, don’t scare me like dis! It ain’t funny!”

                He heard footsteps outside the car, and as he glanced out the bent and warped window frame, seeing the shadow of feet. “Someone dere? Please, my friend, do you see him out dere!? We need help!”

                There was a crushing, crunching sound then and the whole car rocked forward, earning a surprised yelp from the trapped man. The feet that had approached the car scurried backwards as there came another loud pop and bang, and the sound of ferocious roar. Gambit paled, realizing that Creed had just escaped from the trunk.

                Realizing he was out of time and options, Gambit grabbed the belt buckle and pulled it as far away from himself as he could, then let it explode with a little burst of kinetic energy. He tumbled down onto his shoulders into the glass and rolled on hands and knees and crawled out of the windshield frame. He rolled clear just in time for Creed to flip the entire car back into its tires and send it rolling down the incline into the icy stream beyond.

                “Logan! Where are you?!” Remy called into the darkness, trying to gather his wits and shake the glass from his hair as he fumbled for his Bo staff. He glanced a little further down the bank and cried out when he saw Logan lying there in a heap, blood everywhere.

                He scrambled down the embankment towards him, pushing down the urge to vomit when he saw that the man’s face was a bloody mess, shards of glass sticking out of it. Hands shaking, Remy started to pull the pieces out, knowing Wolverine would heal faster if he did.

                He glanced around nervously in the dark and saw Sabertooth silhouetted against the light of the street lamp at the edge of the bridge. His golden eyes gleamed in the darkness and Remy took a protective stance over Logan’s unconscious body, raising his staff, fingers crackling with light. “Come and get me, beasty.”

                The feral mutant made to charge, talons and fangs gleaming, but something struck him down, pelting into him from the side and knocking him into a small tree, which he uprooted upon collision. Three other figured descended upon him in the dark, shocking him with something that might have been a cattle prod, making him snarl and bellow, while others beat him with crude clubs.

                Gambit remained staring for a moment before looking down at Logan, who was starting to come to, his face already looking much better, though it was still blood spattered. He leaned down beside the man, getting his arm under him, “Wake up, we gotta go!” he urged.

                Logan mumbled, eyes flickering, not quite conscious. Gambit tried to lift him when he found another figure standing over them, perched at the edge of the water. In the moonlight, Gambit could better see her face and saw that she was distinctly mutant, spikes and rigid edges of what looked like bone jutting from the edges of her face, above her eyebrows and from her chin and forehead. Despite the odd deformity, she was very pretty, if not gaunt and tattered looking. But it was her eyes that Remy truly recognized.

                “Mon Dieu…little one, is dat you?”

                She approached him, and he could see the spikes of bone were not limited to just her face but also her knees, arms, elbows and feet. She stopped just a foot or so from where he crouched over Logan, staring down at him. He smiled up at her, so relieved to see her alive and well, that at first he did not notice the coldness or the hatred in her eyes.

                “What are you doin’ out here, chile’?” he gasped, reaching to clasp her arm. “Dis no place for a little girl.”

                “Don’t touch me, you scum.” She barked at him.

                Gambit blinked up at her, hearing Creed scream again behind him and turned to find the three creatures had overpowered him at last. He pulled Logan closer, gripping his staff tightly as he drew away from the girl. “I see…” he mumbled, locking eyes with her.

                He laid Logan down gingerly in the snow, covering him with his trench coat to protect him from the cold. “You got rights to hate me, girl. I won’t begrudge ya dat. But you leave dis one alone. He never harmed ya, never had nothing to do with it. Leave him be and I go wit you.”

                She leapt at him then Remy barely avoided being impaled by what looked like a shiv in her hand. As it flashed beneath the lamp light however, he came to realize that it was actually a sharp shard of bone that she had produced from her wrist. She came at him again and again, and Gambit avoided and blocked her moves, but did nothing to attack her directly, leading her further and further away from Logan.

                The battle was quickly joined by the other creatures, all mutants of varying deformities and size. Remy felt one wrap a tentacle around his neck as he dodged another of the girl’s stabs. He whacked the other creature, a man from the look at it, with his staff and did the same to the next, but the third came behind him and jabbed the cattle prod into his back. Remy screamed as the shock rippled through him, and dropped to his knees, dazed and panting.

                He glanced up, seeing Logan moving in the distance, but the next minute his vision went black as the girl kicked him in the face, knocking him cold.

                Logan was awake, though still somewhat dazed and rolling to his feet. He looked up to see Remy being attacked by people he didn’t recognize, people who barely looked human. His claws were out and he snarled, “Get away from him!”

                The girl with the pink hair whirled on him, throwing something that Wolverine narrowly dodged. As he charged them, the man with the cattle prod rose to meet him, while the other picked up both Gambit and Sabertooth and made for the darkness beneath the bridge.

                Logan grappled with the mutant, who glared at him with huge bulging yellow eyes and a mouth full of shark-like teeth. He lunged at Wolverine and set his fangs into his shoulder. Logan grunted and yelled, beating the man to loosen his grip before grabbing him by the nape of the neck and hurling him away. The girl fell on him from behind, stabbing him in the back over and over again. The Wolverine howled before reaching back and grabbing her as well, flinging her to the ground before ripping the cattle prod from the other’s hand, and beating him in the head with it. The mutant went down in a heap and he looked back to see that Gambit was gone.

                He turned to the girl, pinning her to ground with his claws poised to kill. “Where did they take them!? Answer me!”

                “They’re going to face justice for their crimes against my people!” she shouted up at him, trying to look defiant though she trembled beneath him.

                Logan sniffed her and growled; “Think you’ve got the wrong mutant, darling. The one you took, the red head, he’s an X-Men. So am I. We _help_ mutants. We don’t kill them.”

                “You killed my friend,” she muttered, glancing at the other man behind him. Logan snorted; “He ain’t dead. But know that I can, and I will, kill him he attacks me again. You tell me where you took my friend, and we’ll put this mess behind us.”

                “Fuck you.”

                He slapped her and she gasped, though his hand came away with several new cuts in it for his trouble. “Some mouth you got on you. _Where_ is he?”

                “The Morlocks don’t answer to the X-Men, or anyone else! The mutant called Gambit is a murderer, and he’s going to pay for his crimes along with his friends!”

                Logan blinked. “Morlocks? Remy…” he glanced back into the darkness where Gambit had vanished, thinking of what Gambit had been trying to tell him in the car. “He wasn’t part of that. Couldn’t be. You have the wrong man!”

                She cut him then, slashing his throat with one of her bone shards and wriggled free. Logan gurgled on the wound for a minute, clutching it in an effort to help it close faster and tried to pin her down again, but she was too fast. He stumbled after her, but she vanished into the dark beneath the bridge. The smell of blood and singed flesh was too heavy and he couldn’t follow the scent.

                He turned, still oozing blood and marched back towards the remaining mutant and grabbed him up, slinging him over his shoulder. He looked towards the ruined car and frowned. He was going to have to walk all the way back to Westchester, which was still at least fifteen miles. He hoped Remy could hold out that long.

                He turned back and grabbed his lover’s trench coat, breathing the smell of it in deep before tying it around himself and making his way back up towards the road, the unconscious Morlock dangling from his shoulder.

 

***

               

At the X-Mansion…

               

                Scott was moving faster, gripping the headboard, on the edge of climax with Jean beneath him, panting and sweaty, long legs wrapped around his back. “Scott…Scott!”

                “Jean!”

                He bowed his head, hips stuttering as he finally came, his lover squeezing around him to draw the sensation out, nails scratching down his back. “Scott…” she sighed, kissing his shoulder. Cyclops dropped breathless on top of her, face in the pillows, heaving with breath as his fiancé stroked his back and kissed his ear.

                “That was certainly something,” she chuckled, allowing him to slide out of her as she rolled over and pulled her nightgown back down over her naked thighs. “What’s the occasion?”

                “Nothing…just love you.” He answered with a tired smile.

                “I love you too.” She pushed his sweaty hair out of his face. “But I sense that there’s something else. You get more… _aggressive_ …when Logan’s home. You know you don’t have to feel threatened by him, right?”

                Scott let out a long suffering sigh, flopping over in the sheets. “God, Jean, can we go one day without talking about him?”

                “I’m just saying…hasn’t the threat passed? Logan’s not going to take me away from you, even if he wasn’t with Remy. I love you, Scott. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. We should be beyond this.” She held up her hand, “You did give me a ring after all.”

                He pushed her hair back behind her ear, “I know. You’re right…something about him just…makes me uneasy.”

                “I know.” She kissed his hand. “But he’s not even here. So let’s just—“

                BAM BAM BAM.

                Jean yanked the comforter around herself as Scott sat up, just in time for Logan to thrust open their bedroom door. Jean screamed at the sight of all the blood on the man, not to mention the fact that he appeared to be carrying a body.

                “Wake up call. Sorry to intrude, but we have an emergency.”

                “Logan!” Scott yelled and Wolverine spared him a quick glance, looking immediately at his nakedness. He grunted, “Happy to see me Scooter?”

                “Dammit Logan! What the hell are you doing in here?! Who is that?!”

                “A Morlock.”

                Both Scott and Jean blinked at him in stunned surprise. “Now you see why I didn’t have time for pleasantries. I can’t find Hank, I need to drop this punk off in the lab and wake him up. I need info out of him. _Now._ ”

                “Why?” Jean asked, reaching for her robe and wrapping it tightly around herself.

                “They took Gambit. I don’t know where, somewhere underground. We gotta find him, before these crazy bastards kill him for something he didn’t do.”

                “What are you talking about?” Cyclops asked, pulling on his shorts and grabbing his shirt.

                “They took Sabertooth too. Don’t care what they do to Creed, though I doubt it would have any real affect, but if they hurt Remy…”

                “Logan, slow down, explain.” Jean coaxed as they all rushed down the hall together. Logan took a steadying breath, trying to clear his head. “For what I could tell, they think Remy is mixed up in what happened in the tunnels a few months ago.”

                Both Scott and Jean stared at him. He turned, blinking at them. “What? Come on, we gotta get Hank!”

                “The Morlocks think that Gambit had something to do with the Massacre?” Jean asked again.

                “I guess, but its crazy—“

                “Did he?” Scott asked bluntly.

                The feral mutant glared at the other man, blue eyes flashing dangerously. “Of course not. The _Marauders_ attacked those tunnels, Scott. At least, that’s what you all told me. Right now, nothing is making any fucking sense. I thought the Morlocks were all dead.”

                “Apparently not.” Jean said, looking at the one over Logan’s shoulder. “There must have been a few survivors. Who knows how many of them there really are, they could have been hiding in tunnels that we didn’t even know about.”

                Jubilee emerged from a side door then, dressed in her pajamas and blinking. “What’s going on—Holy shit!”

                She muffled a cry when she saw Logan standing there the way he was, blood and dirt covered with a man slung over his shoulders like a dead deer. He shushed her, “Darlin’ it’s alright! Go back to bed, we’ve got this covered.”

                The dark haired teenager glanced around at Jean and Scott and noticed that someone was missing, “Where’s Remy?”

                Logan looked to the ground and then put a hand on her shoulder, “In trouble. But I’ll get him out of it, don’t worry.”

                “Then I’m coming with you.”

                He rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, “Jubilee, this no time—“

                “Someone’s gotta look after you! Look at you! You’re a hot mess!” She took his free hand as they continued to trail down the hall towards Hank’s lab.

                “Whoever said it was your job to look after me, girl?”

                “ _I_ did,” she retorted.

                Jean took the limp man from Logan’s shoulder as they made their way inside the lab and found Hank tinkering with something under a microscope. He looked up in surprise, wearing nothing but his pajama pants, which seemed to have bananas printed on them.

                “My stars and garters! What’s going on?”

                “Cute pjs, Beast,” Jubilee giggled and Logan waved her off. “Listen, Hank, we’ve got major trouble. I sorta battered this guy, I need you to wake him up so I can get some answers out of him.”

                “I’m sorry, my friend, but it doesn’t really work that way. Let me have a look at him.” Jean moved him over to a gurney and Dr. McCoy glanced over his injuries before looking back at Logan. “Was it your intent to murder this man, because you very nearly succedded.”

                “He came at me with a cattle prod. He and his friends took down Victor Creed _and_ Gambit made off with them in the night. I wasn’t exactly thinking about being gentle.”

                “I’m afraid you’re not going to get any answers out of this one tonight, my friend.”

                Logan snarled. “Not good enough.” He looked pleadingly to Jean. “Please, you have to find out where they took him. They could be torturing him or worse.”

                “I’m sorry, Logan, but I swore not to use my powers against someone that way. You _know_ that!” the young woman retorted, quite insulted that he would assume she would.

                He touched her arm pleadingly, much to Scott’s chagrin. “Jean, I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way. I can’t sit here and wait around while Remy may be hurtin and worse. What would you do if it was Scott down there? Please, Jean…I’m begging you. Help me save him.”

                “No, you can’t ask her to go against--!” Scott began and Logan whirled on him, teeth bared.

                “Shut your mouth, Summers! I don’t give two shits if you hate my guts, but don’t you stand there and let a good man die just because you’re jealous!”

                “If what this man says is true than Gambit is a _murderer_ and d _eserves_ whatever he gets!”

                Logan bared his claws and Scott reached for his visor. Jean grabbed her fiancé and yanked his arm down. “Stop! Stop it now!”

                “We’re supposed to be a _team!_ We don’t abandon our own!” Logan bellowed.

                Scott glared him down, nostrils flared, still ready to attack. Then slowly he nodded, “You’re right. We’re X-Men. We stand together.” He amended. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

                Wolverine grunted and turned away, only to find that the man on the table seemed to be coming around. Hank was standing beside him, administering some sort of shot. “I trust this is the solution you’re seeking,” he muttered to them.

                The mutant on the gurney whimpered in pain and fear and Logan leaned over him. “Listen bub, you got two seconds to answer me; where did you little pals take my friend?”

                “Not…going to tell you…”

                Wolverine snorted, “I brought you back to our compound outside the city. We have a doctor here,” he looked up at Hank, “who can heal you. We’re not your enemies. You’ve taken one of our friends by mistake. Tell me where he is.”

                “It’s no mistake…the mutant called Gambit…”

                “I’m telling ya, _you_ _have the wrong man._ Do you want an innocent person to be murdered on your watch? Do the Morlock leaders really want that on their hands?”

                “I…” he faltered.

                “Of course you don’t. Because that would be just as bad as what those people did to you. So help me find him, and we’ll get you justice. I swear it.”

                The man was quiet for a moment, wheezing and whimpering and then nodded; “The tunnels…in the center of the city. Go through the sewer into the labyrinth. When you think you’ve lost the trail, you’ve actually found it. Look for the letter M carved in the wall. It will lead you there.”

                Logan nodded gratefully. “Thank you.” He looked to Hank. “Do what you can for ‘im. Anyone who’s coming, I’m leaving in two minutes.”

                “We should speak to the Professor,” Jean suggested.

                “No time, Jeanie.”

                Jubilee was at his elbow as he marched from the lab. “I’m coming with you.”

                “No you’re not. Morlock tunnels are no place for a kid.”

                “I’m an X-Men too!”

                “You’re a child.”

                “A child who saved your life!” she snapped, grabbing his arm. “You just might need me to do it again! Besides, I’m worried about Remy too. Take me with you, I won’t get in your way.”

                He sighed and hugged her to him. “Fine. Suit up, you’ve got thirty seconds.”

 

***


	5. Chapter 5

 

               

                Drumming. Drumming, or pipes banging; a loud noxious sound that made his eyes throb behind their sockets and his brain rattle in his skull. He winced and whimpered, trying to cover his head with hands to drown out the sound, but nothing worked. There were voices now too, a low rumbling of tones and garbled words, all mushing together in a cacophony of _noise_.

                “Stop it…” Remy moaned, coming into awareness once more. His brain was awake but his body was much slower to respond. His head throbbed and the noise was everywhere, but slightly less disjointed now. As his eyes began to adjust, he realized he was lying on a cold metal floor, which seemed to sway ever so slightly.

                He sat up and the swaying increased. Bars surrounded him, old and rusted and arched around above his head like a cage.

                _A cage._

                He was on his feet immediately, running to the bars and slamming into them, casting about for some idea of his location. He was greeted by deep shadows that were thrown out in all directions by numerous lanterns that were dangling from hooks on old arched brick and cement walls. Tunnels. The air was stifling, sick-sweet smelling like a locker room filled with damp mildewed towels.

                Remy gagged on it and covered his face, still looking around for some direction, something familiar. His prison was suspended from a rather thick chain from a high ceiling, and below him was running water that seemed to be emptying somewhere from the sound of it.

                But on either side of the water were wide walk ways, and here was where the light and the noise came from. People, dozens and dozens of them, lined those walks. Some moving along, some slumped against the walls, others crossing coarsely made bridges over the rushing water, all coming and going about their business as if he didn’t exists.

                “’Ello? Please! Someone, anyone! Where am I?” he called to them.

                Most ignored him, a few chanced a curious glance in his direction and then looked away again. Fewer yet stopped and stared at him with eyes that were angry and full of contempt, but also wonder.

                “I see they got you too,” a familiar voice croaked from somewhere. Remy whipped around, trying to locate the sound, only to catch sight of another similarly suspended cage dangling a few yards from his, suspended slightly higher. Peering up he managed to catch sight of the face of John Greycrow, sitting against the bars, looking down at him.

                “Scalphunter!” he snarled, trying to get at him, no matter how useless it was. “You bastard! What is this?!”

                “Relax, LeBeau,” the mustached Comanche replied with quiet irritation and resignation in his gravelly voice. “This ain’t none of _my_ doing. Thought you would have gotten off clean from this one.” He chuckled darkly, “Guess being Essex’s pet favorite doesn’t count for much down here.”

                Remy bellowed at him, shaking the bars and feeling his energy crackle across them until they accidentally ignited, throwing him backwards with a bang and causing the cage itself to break from its secure line, shifting to a tilt as it dangled precariously above the rushing water.

                Gambit yelped as he rolled along the metal floor, scrambling for purchase, some way to escape the prison before it became his tomb.

                The gawking crowd stopped to gape at the imminent calamity, though none moved to help him. Looking down from the bars where he was pressed, Gambit saw nothing but a swirling vortex of gushing water. “Oh no, _not_ today, not like dis!”

                He allowed his energy to charge the bars he was pressed against, bracing himself as they exploded and sent him into free fall. Luckily the shock was enough to propel him, and instead of landing directly in the water, he caught the ledge of the walkway. Using all his strength, he dragged himself to safety, listening as the chains and the loosened blocks from the ceiling crashed down into the torrent below.

                He laid panting on the cement for several long minutes in a daze, his back burning from the blast. People were moving towards him now, and as he regained himself he looked up into their faces. He was quickly taken aback by the sight.

                So many of them were deformed, hardly human looking at all, all gaping and leering at him through half-lidded or bulging eyes, gaping mouths that were slack and drooling or twisted in some deformed sneer.

                Panicked, Remy crawled away from them, flattening himself against the wall. “Don’t! Don’t come no closer! Don’t want no trouble—“

                “You should have thought of _that_ long ago,” a woman’s voice said suddenly. He turned and saw her, approaching him from over another foot bridge. She was not like the others, tall and lanky with short, wild black hair and wearing an eye patch. She was young, perhaps not much older than himself, though she had that world-weary pall upon her. Her lips were curled in a scowl as she surveyed him with disdain, and a hint of admiration.

                “Who are you?”

                “My name is Callisto, young murderer, leader of the Morlocks. I am to be your judge.”

                The demon eyed man blinked at her. “My judge…for what?”

                “Your trial. Unless you prefer to plead guilty now, as you so obviously are.”

                Gambit stumbled to his feet, “I… _non. NON!_ I’m not guilty! I tried to help you! The girl, the girl who brought me here, with the bones and the pink hair, she can tell you that I saved her!” he exclaimed.

                “You mean you _kidnapped_ me.”

                Remy turned once more to see the young woman he’d encountered on road approaching him. He gawked at her, “Non! I brought you to the surface, away from the fighting, where you would be safe!”

                “Liar!” the girl screamed, rushing him, but the woman named Callisto held out her hand, holding the girl at bay.

                “Stand down, Marrow! I won’t have blood running in the streets. We have order here to abide by. You’ll have your revenge, in good time.”

                “Marrow?” Remy repeated softly, looking her over. He stepped a little closer to her, much to everyone’s discomfort, not knowing what would happen next. The girl seemed ready to leap at him, long shards of bone protruding from her wrist, ready to bury them in his soft flesh. “Your mother…she called you Sarah. That was your name then. Sarah.”

                Callisto blinked in surprise, looking between her prisoner and her subordinate. The young Morlock’s lips trembled, her fist balled. She slashed out at Remy, managing to cut him across the face. He stumbled back, cheek bleeding.

                “Don’t you _dare_ speak about my mother! You left her to die!”

                “She was already dying…” the other mutant continued, “I tried to save you _both_ , petite, but it was too late for her, and I was…” he touched his old wounds and glared up towards the dangling cages. “Where is Creed?”

                “Your comrade did not escape us, don’t worry.” Callisto replied. “He was a good little snitch. Lead my people right to you. And here I thought I would never find the monster that was the architect of our down fall.” She reached for him and grabbed his jaw, dragging him forward. “Unfortunately for you, sweet one, it’s not a long way to fall when you start at the bottom.”

                “I did not do dis… _I did not_ _do dis!”_

She frowned at his defiance and glanced up at the other dangling cage, containing the man known as Scalphunter. “Well, what say you, prisoner? Does he speak the truth?”

                For a long moment John Greycrow seemed to weigh his options, watching Remy squirm. “He’s as guilty as the rest of us,” he spat finally. “If only because he was stupid enough not to walk away when he had the chance.”

                “GREYCROW!”

                Gambit attempted to reach for something to charge, some projectile he could launch at the man, only to find himself grabbed from behind by another pair of rough hands and forced to the ground. “De X-Men!” he gasped suddenly, feeling a heavy weight being crushed down on his back, forcing the air out of his lungs.

                Both Callisto and Marrow paused. “My friends…dey come for me. Dey find out what you’re doin’ down here...dat you kidnappin’ and killin’ other mutants…can guarantee you, chere, they be none too pleased. Morlock justice or not!”

                Callisto leaned close to him. “Perhaps you’re right, ‘ _Gambit’._ That is, assuming they would ever find you. Which they won’t. We have learned our lesson. We don’t leave tracks.” She looked to the man who was pushing down on her prisoner. “Stun him, and then take him to the interrogation room.”

                Remy screamed and squirmed as she turned her back on him, only to be swiftly clubbed into unconsciousness.

 

**

 

                It was somewhere around mid-morning, but no one would ever guess that within the cavernous recesses of the tunnels below the city. Wolverine lead the pack, Jubilee, Storm, and Scott following behind him. It was a smaller band than he would have liked, but he wouldn’t risk any more than that, not knowing what they would find down there.

                “So…who are these Morlock people?”

                “Mutants, darlin’, just like you and me. Cast offs, runaways, what have you. They relocated to the tunnels where they thought they could escape regular society, being what it is.”

                “A bunch of intolerant assholes?”

                Logan smirked. “Yeah, more or less.” He glanced back at Scott and Storm. “They aren’t going to be happy when we find them, I don’t think it’ll matter that we’re mutants too.”

                “It won’t,” Storm answered. “After all the hardships these people have faced, their distrust runs deep. I can’t say I don’t understand their hatred of the world above. I only wish we could find a better way for them.”

                “We’re trying,” Scott said beside her. “Unfortunately there aren’t any easy answers or quick fixes.”

                “I know, Scott.” She answered.

                Further and further into the darkness they traveled, the sounds of traffic above them slowly fading into obscurity, drown out by the din of rushing water. Logan struggled for signs of Remy’s scent, finding his nose assaulted by too many other smells. But by and by, the deeper they traveled, the more he began to sense living things. Not rats, or other vermin, but people.

                “Getting closer…” he muttered, darting down a side tunnel away from the running water below them.

                “Logan, be careful! I’m sure they’ve set traps to keep intruders out.” Cyclops warned him.

                The Wolverine nodded but said nothing, still loping along in the dark, Jubilee on his heels. “Do you think…do you think they’ll really hurt Remy?”

                “I think they’re gonna try, sweetheart.” He answered grimly. “But don’t fret about it. Our Cajun is a tough fighter, he won’t go easy.” He balled his fist, “And if anyone so much as scratches him, I’ll make them regret it.”

                Scott moved in the darkness beside him as they paused before another cross section of tunnels. “Logan, we need to discuss something.”

                “Double dates can wait, slim. My boyfriend’s kinda occupied at the moment. But if you’re looking for suggestions, I like sushi.”

                Scott ignored him and continued; “There is the small matter of the accusations these people have brought against Remy. I know you weren’t there when the Massacre occurred, but I have to tell you…if Remy _was_ involved…”

                Logan turned to look at him. “Then what? We leave him behind to let these tunnel rats do what they want with him?”

                Cyclops hesitated, “I didn’t say that. But something will have to be done. I need you to understand this now, because when the time comes our decision has to be made as a team.”

                “What happened to being presumed innocent before proven guilty?” the dark haired man growled. “You don’t know that kid like I do. It’s not in him to do something like this.”

                “You also told me he was kidnapped by a psychotic telepath. It’s possibly Remy participated, but not of his own free will. Something else to take into consideration.”

                Logan said nothing, finally choosing a tunnel that lead down and to the left. He remembered Remy’s words during their drive, and found a knot was twisting in his stomach. Remy claimed not to know what Sinister had planned for the Morlocks, only that he had wanted to “help” them somehow. But that didn’t seem to mesh with his earlier descriptions of the telepath. Was Scott right? Was Remy being controlled somehow? He had already admitted that Sinister had been inside his head, it certainly seemed plausible.

                And if it was true, Logan prayed it wasn’t, what did it mean for the team? If Sinister could get into Remy’s head at will, use him as a puppet as he had done to the man in the diner and the man in New Orleans…

                Logan shook the thought from his head. He wouldn’t believe Remy could be a danger, much less an enemy of the X-Men. Not after the way he had saved them on their last mission from those body double Skrulls.

                “Hey! Look!” Jubilee grabbed his arm and he paused, looking to see where she was pointing. There on the wall in faded, runny graffiti was a letter “M”.

                “Good eye, Jubes!” They rushed further down the corridor, and Logan could smell more and more people from somewhere just beyond the stone walls. His ears began to pick up new sounds of talking and movement.

                “Alright everyone, tread lightly, no doubt there’s—“

                Jubilee let out a scream as something grabbed her and dragged her into what appeared to be solid wall. Logan turned and grabbed for her, only to be yanked through as well. Scott and Storm attempted to follow, only to find solid brick and cement to greet them.

 

 

                On the other side of the wall, Wolverine found himself taken from the black obscurity of the tunnels to a swarming corridor filled with people, who were all as shocked at his appearance.

                Jubilee was still thrashing in front of him, being manhandled by some thug with a taser.

                “Let go of her!” Wolverine shouted, rushing the man and trying to land a punch, only to have his fist slide right through the man’s face. He balked, having seen this power before. But his moment’s hesitation was enough for the thug to turn and punch him back. Logan reeled back, but managed to drop and kick the man’s legs out from under him. As he fell, Wolverine was able to catch Jubilee and pull her away, just as two more brutes moved in on them.

                Logan took up a defensive stance and released his claws, “ALRIGHT! EVERYBODY JUST SIMMER THE FUCK DOWN!” he roared, causing the approaching group to back away, as the rest of the gawking crowd did the same.

                “Tell us where the hell we are,” He looked down at the mutant on the floor, who was staring up at him in shock. “ _NOW.”_

                “This is the City of Morlocks!” the man gasped. “You’re trespassing!”

                “Great. You might want to work on your welcoming committee,” the X-Man muttered. “Now you tell me who’s in charge here. Seems like some of your friends have been coming top side and taking prisoners. I want them _back._ ”

                “You’re welcome to try,” answered a creaking, ancient voice from the crowd. The throng of men and women parted, allowing a red-cloaked figure to approach them. Behind him, Jubilee gripped his arm in fear.

                “Wolvie, watch out…”

                “Shh, darlin’. I got this.”

                From beneath the shadow of his hood, the cloaked figure leered at them. His skin was ashen and pock marked, and half of his smile was twisted, revealing teeth and gum as if drawn back in a perpetual grin. Long white hair slithered down from behind his neck , and Logan noticed the way his hands were haggard and claw like.

                “These ‘prisoners’ you speak of belong to us now. They are no longer part of _your_ world. You may as well take your search party and return from whence you came. They are as good as dead.”

                Wolverine’s eyes flashed and his claws glinted in the dingy yellow light of the lanterns above them. “I wish you hadn’ta said that. Cause if it turns out to be true, they’re not going to be the only ones going in an early grave.”

                The man in the cloak chuckled. “What authority do you think you have here? Against _us?”_ He dropped his head, revealing his twisted features. Jubilee stifled a loud gasp, but Logan remained unmoved.

                “I don’t give two shits about your little sewer city, Ugly. But you took someone I care about, and that pisses me off. You let him go, and you’re free to go about your business.”

                “He’s looking for the one called LeBeau! The one who tried to escape!” someone shouted from behind him.

                “Ah! The worst of them all.”

                “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jubilee snapped. “Remy wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’s a good guy, an X-Men! What are you, ass-face? Some kind of wizard?”

                Logan pushed her back, but it was too late. The man was already advancing, quicker than he expected. He reached for them and Logan sensed immediately that he should not let this creature touch them. He threw his elbow into the man’s face, slashed at him with the edge of his claws and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him flying backward into the crowd. The other fighters among the group made to advance once more, only to be thrown back, momentarily blinded and deafened by one of Jubilee’s own blasts.

                “Run!” she grabbed Logan by the arm and pulled him towards the cleared path. They scrambled through the crowded alley, the slowly recovering mob following close behind, shouting for their apprehension.

                “We gotta find somewhere to hide!”

                “Any suggestion, pipsqueak, cause I sure ain’t got any! They’re packed like sardines in here!” Logan growled, pushing his way through the crowd, doing his best not to hurt anyone as he tried to put as many bodies between them and the mob as possible.

                They turned another tight corner, crashing through a small food stand, and found themselves face to face with a dead end. Logan felt dread rising in his chest. He’d fought his way out of worse scrapes, but he had Jubilee to think about. He didn’t want her to witness him in berserker mode. Still it didn’t look like he had much choice.

                “Jubilee, stay behind me, and whatever happens, you get yourself out of here. Understand me?”

                “Yeah right,” she muttered, doing her best to put on a brave face. She was still so young. Too young to be doing this.

                Logan saw something shift in the shadows again then and turned, nostrils flared, claws at the ready. A face appeared among the shadows, narrow and elf-like with bright, pure gold eyes and blue skin and hair.

                “Mein freund,” the stranger whispered. “Follow me, I will take you and the young one to safety.” He extended his hand, which Logan realized consisted of only three thick fingers. The creature also had a clubbed tail, not unlike the old depictions of the Devil he saw in children’s stories.

                “Who the hell are you?” he gasped.

                The sound of the mob was closer, closing in. He was out of options. “Hold on to the girl,” the blue skinned man instructed. Logan put his arm around Jubilee and then carefully gripped the mutant’s hand. A moment later with a loud pop of air, they vanished under the noses of their attackers, leaving nothing but a faint blue and purple trail of vapor behind them.

 

***


	6. Chapter 6

 

***

 

                _BAMF!_

                Logan fell forward, feeling breath explode out of him as he stumbled, still holding onto Jubilee and the strange blue mutant. The rush of air around him and the sudden shock of teleportation took the wind out of him momentarily, but he was able to right himself, blinking around.

                They had reappeared in some small hovel, sparsely furnished and vacant except for them. Jubilee groaned and he let her sink to the ground, she seemed ready to vomit. “Head between yer knees, girl, you’ll be alright.” He mumbled, patting her head.

                He turned to the stranger, who looked even worse for wear than they were. He slumped against Logan’s frame and the bigger man was forced to pick him up. The little man, wiry and gaunt but muscled as well. He couldn’t have weighed more than 110 lbs, if that.

                “Hey, you alright there, bub?”

                “Ja, sorry…” the elf-ish creature replied with a wry smile. “I haven’t teleported anyone else in a long time. Very stressful,” he motioned for Logan to set him down, once more steady on his feet, which were as strange as his hands, long and narrow and containing only two long toes that looked perfect for grabbing onto things. “But at least you are safe. For now, at any rate.”

                Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “Yer accent…you’re a long way from home.”

                The other man nodded slowly, “Ja, I am. You speak German?”

                “Ich sprech ein wenig Deutsch,” Logan answered roughly. “Not very good at it though.” He added.

                The blue skinned man beamed at him for a moment, then looked curiously to the girl, “Is she alright? I hope I did not hurt her.”

                “No, I’m alright,” Jubilee mumbled, finally pushing herself up. “Nothing you just did could possibly be worse than what those creeps outside were going to do. Hey, where are we? Still in the tunnels?”

                “Ja, fraulein. This is my home here, or it has been since I arrived.”

                “You’re not a Morlock.” Logan stated, rather than asked. The other mutant shook his head, “No, I am not one of them. I have been lost here for some time, surviving as best I can. Few of them know of my presence here, and luckily those few have chosen to let me go in peace. Others, I fear, would not. Such as the man who was chasing you just now.”

                “Who w _as_ that guy?”

                “His name is Masque. And he is very, very dangerous. You must never let him touch you with his hands, for he has the power to disfigure and deform your features. He has inflicted this upon many of the people here. He calls it a mercy, I call it monstrous.” He sighed, looking to the little hole in the wall that served as a window, glancing at the busy streets beyond.

                Jubilee and Wolverine joined him, peering out into world beyond. Though they remained in the tunnels they were stunned to see the vastness of the cavern they now occupied, the ceiling a great arch of darkness above them, and below a least a hundred little hovels and shanties, much like this one, built of recycled and discarded building materials. There were little streets and alleys, a small market place, all bustling with activity. There was no water here, but Logan sensed the dampness not far off.

                “So much for the Morlocks being wiped off the map,” he mumbled. “How many are there?”

                “Not so many, maybe a hundred or more.” The man shrugged. He glanced up at the burly feral then, “Forgive me, I have not learned your names!”

                “Logan,” the man beside him grunted. “This is Jubilee.” He thumbed towards the girl, who waved at him.

                “I am called Nightcrawler, but my friends know me as Kurt.”

                “Alright, Kurt,” Logan began then, “I know you’ve already pulled our asses out of a fire once today, but I’ve got to ask ya another favor. Have ya seen these guys bring down any prisoners lately? A man, young looking, tall with red hair and black and red eyes?”

                The blue skinned mutant paused thoughtfully for a moment, “I have not seen such a man myself, but if he is a prisoner, as you say, then there is only one place he could be.”

 

**

 

                Remy was dreaming.

                He knew this because he found himself standing in the gardens of his one time home, his foster father, Jean-Luc, sitting on a bench beside him, leafing through a book. The man looked up at him, smiling. “Something the matter, Remy? Why so serious?”

                Remy blinked at him, taking in the kindness of his features, the refined brow, the dark hair and the well-groomed mustache and goatee. He had hazel eyes. Although he had sheltered and cared for Remy for less than a year, he meant more to the young man than anyone else. Living with Jean-Luc was the best time of the young man’s childhood; the only time in his life when he had been safe and happy, away from his abusive father and a string of unhappy foster homes before being turned out onto the streets to beg.

                “You’re not him.”

                The man blinked at him slowly, still smiling, and removed his reading glasses. “Pardon?” he asked, his accent a slightly smoother version of Remy’s Cajun, more French than American.

                “You’re _not_ him.” Gambit answered again, glowering at the image. He looked back at the lush gardens and the river beyond. “I know when you’re playin’ with my head, Essex. Everything’s too bright, too vivid, too _perfect._ So drop the façade already. You don’t deserve to wear his face.”

                “Would you prefer another setting?” the voice behind him answered, changing completely from Jean-Luc’s refined voice to a smoother, seedier tone that evolved into a low husky growl. The gardens around Remy shimmered and faded, replaced by musty wall paper and the smell of beer and warm leather and cigar smoke with a metallic hint of blood battered his senses. It was Logan’s smell.

                Remy refused to turn, refused to look at whatever tempting image Essex was displaying for him now. He felt the man shift behind him, rising to stand behind him. He put his hand on Gambit’s back and then his shoulder, circling around him and drawing him in closer until he felt the man press his face into his hair before sweeping it aside and kissing his neck.

                “Perhaps you prefer me this way?” Logan’s voice purred. Remy shivered, and jerked away before turning and trying to punch the man who disguised himself as his lover. But Essex was quick, and strong, easily holding the fighter at bay.

                “So much hostility,” he sighed, finally relinquishing this form to his own figure. “I really can’t understand your hatred for me, LeBeau. I’ve never done anything but _help_ you.”

                Gambit managed to land a punch, knocking Essex to the ground. “Your definition of ‘help’ I could live wit’out!” he spat. “Get outta my head! NOW!”

                “I’m tryin’ to _save_ you, you ungrateful bastard. I warned you what would happen if you didn’t return to me!”

                _“I’d rather die here!”_ the red head found himself screaming. “I _deserve_ to die here…this is my fault. It’s all my fault.”

                The telepath took advantage of this lapse of despair, moving in close to the man again and gathering him to him, “No, Remy. Whatever guilt you feel for these dregs, I assure you it is useless. Their destruction was already predestined. You were only the shepherd, nothing more. I chose you for that role because I knew you didn’t have the ability to kill in cold blood. Not like your companions. Had I realized they would deal with you as they chose to, I would have made different choices.”

                But his consolation made Gambit feel colder than ever. He tried to pry himself from Sinsiter’s grasp, but the man was too strong now, he had gotten too close and taken hold. Sinister gazed at him with a strange mixture of distant admiration and cool curiosity. “You hate yourself _so_ much. I can’t understand it. You’re superior to these people you mourn for in every possible way. They have their meager existence here in the bowls of the world…you’re meant for so much more.”

                Gambit shook his head, still fighting the hold on his mind. Sinister preyed on his weakness, exploited his self-loathing and doubt, made him feel vulnerable and powerful all at once. The constant manipulation of the past few months, the past few _years_ burned in his brain. He tried to force Essex’s influence out, but it was difficult.

                He thought of Logan. Logan gave him strength, Logan gave him hope. A blurry image of the man manifested itself beside them, reaching for Remy. Essex snarled, “Hmm…your chosen _protector_ is it? He’s an impressive specimen as well. It’s almost a shame you’re not female, LeBeau. I would like to see what superb offspring you two would produce.”

                Remy cried out and ripped himself from the man’s hold just as the image of Logan lunged, claws out, slashing at the intruder. Sinister fell back, his form less tangible now. “Haha! Impressive! I’m proud of you for not giving in so easily.”

                “Fuck you.” Remy spat.

                The tattooed man laughed even as he continued to fade and Wolverine continued to hack away at him, effectively driving him out. “I haven’t taken that off the menu, LeBeau, be certain of that. As for your friend here, he is a fine specimen indeed.” He vanished, only to appear right on top of Remy, menacing and terrible looking, eyes glowing hellish red. _“I’m going to have fun dissecting him in front of you!”_

                “NO!”

                Remy woke with a jerk of his muscles, inhaling sharply. He was once more lying a cold floor in a dark, barren room, his back and legs aching, to say nothing for the pounding in his head. But despite his bleak surroundings, he was safe from Sinister’s reach.

                But he was not alone. Looking up, he noticed another shape in the corner of the make-shift holding tank, and gasped. Wings…long and glistening white fluttered spasmodically upon the ground. Beneath them was the prone figure of another man, who was naked except for a pair torn briefs. The wings upon his back were broken, torn in places, staining the pristine white feathers rusty red.

                Hesitantly Remy crawled towards the other man, who didn’t seem aware of him at first. “M’sieur…?” he whispered.

                The winged man opened his eyes, which were wide and red-rimmed and dialated. He yelped and tried to drag himself away from Gambit, but couldn’t move himself more than a few inches. “Please…please…no more…”

                “Shh, non, mon ami, I won’t hurt you,” the Cajun assured. “How can I help you?”

                The man laid blinking at him in a daze, breathing heavily. His wings continued to flutter and, unable to right themselves. Remy gingerly touched one, feeling the smooth texture before bracing the narrow bone with his hands. “You want to fold dem back, yes? Let them rest?”

                The man nodded slowly and Remy offered him a little smile. “Dis might hurt a little, but I will be as careful as I can. Are you ready?”

                Keeping the delicate bones braced, he moved them into position, as if he were smoothing down the wings on a pigeon. Beneath him the man groaned in agony, digging ragged nails into the cement floor. Remy did his best to be quick without being careless, and soon the two battered appendages were neatly tucked together behind the man’s back, allowing him to roll onto his side.

                “Thank you…” the man rasped. Remy moved closer to him, shrugging out of his sweater and balling it up to create a pillow for the man’s head.

                “No problem, homme. “ The Cajun smiled. The man below him was about his age, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He would have cut a rather handsome figure were it not for his current disheveled state of abject agony. “What happened to you?”

                The blue eyed man scowled even as he continued to gulp for breath. “That bitch…and her lackies…the cow with the eye patch…she kidnapped me.”

                “What de hell for?”

                The other mutant shook his head, gripping Remy’s arm for support and trying to pull himself up, but failing. “Don’t know…can’t tell if she’s crazy…or what. I thought they wanted a ransom, which they were never going to get to begin with…but now I don’t…ARGH!”

                “Shh!” Remy did his best make him still and comfortable, “Mon ami, don’t strain yourself. You don’t look as if you have much strength left, save it for what matters.”

                “And what’s that?” the other mumbled, having given up his struggle to right himself at last, lying limply upon the ground. “There’s no way out of here…I’ve tried.” He pointed to his wings. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

                Remy grimaced at the idea, but said nothing, looking again at his prison. There were no bars this time, just plain walls of old damp brick that stretched out into blackness, with one light source from high above, which appeared to be grate, though it did not lead to the surface. There were no doors, no ladder, no other possible way of escaping, save for a rope or…

                He looked again to his fellow captive. “How long have you been down here?”

                The blonde man shook his head tiredly. “Don’t know…days, maybe weeks? There’s no sense of time down here in the dark…it never ends.”

                Gambit paused a moment to consider the poetic irony of his current situation. Here he sat in what felt like some circle of Hell with a fallen Angel. He almost laughed. Logan would have laughed.

                “What’s your name, mon ami?” he asked.

                “Warren…”

                “Well, Warren, I’m Remy. And you might be the very last person I am ever able to say that to.” He sighed. As he sat beside his new companion, he began to realize there was a new, awful smell to the place. Something that smelled like rot and…

                Remy shuddered, looking down at Warren. “What’s above us?” he asked.

                The pale eyed man looked at him tiredly, “Up there? Not completely sure…some hall where they take people to be ‘judged’ for their offenses. That’s where they did this,” he touched one of his bloody wing bones, “before throwing me down here.”

                There was a noise above them then, making them both jump. They heard the shuffling of feet and chains, the ruckus clamor of an angry crowd following shortly after.

                “Pay attention!” thundered the voice of a woman, which they both recognized as Callisto. “The trial of the prisoner Scalphunter shall commence!”

                There was another uproar and Remy tensed, staring up at the grate above his head, trying to see something other than the glare of some unnatural light.

                “Scalphunter; also known as John Greycrow, you stand accused of crimes against the Morlocks, including seventy five counts of murder in cold blood, arson and robbery. How do you plead?”

                There was the clinking of chains and then Remy heard a sharp little spitting sound followed by a “Fuck you.” From Greycrow. The crowd grew riotous above them, the din of their outrage ringing in the vast empty space around them.

                “If you will say nothing in your defense, then you are found guilty on all counts. Your sentence is death. Have you any last words?”

                Remy found himself holding his breath. John had been his friend, a man he thought he knew. Greycrow had never been the most honest of men or the most honorable. But he was genuine and he didn’t back away from a fight, and until they had become entangled with Sinister, he had been a loyal friend.

                Which Greycrow stood before the tribunal now, he wondered. The man Remy had shared many a meal with and more than a few adventures, who had helped him learn to fight, and who had seen him through some bad times? Or was it the blood-thirsty mercenary that had ordered Creed to take him out when Remy had tried to intervene?

                “John! JOHN!” He found himself screaming, hoping someone would hear him. “STOP THIS! STOP THIS, YOU CAN’T JUST--!”

                There was a strange sound of something hard crunching against bone and metal and strangled cry, followed by a hefty cheer from the crowd. Remy shuddered, still blinking up at the light above him, Warren lying beside him. Gambit blinked then when something hot and wet fell upon his face, like a droplet of rain. He raised his fingers to it, wiping it away, only to find his skin smeared bright red.

                More came in steady droplets, forcing the two of them crawl away the pool of light. Remy started to gag at the sight of blood dripping down onto the floor, creating a small puddle.

                “Mon Dieu…dey killed him…”

                He jumped again when the grate slid open, and something was pushed to the edge of the opening.

                “Oh God…!” Warren gasped beside Remy, reaching over and grabbing the man as a body came tumbling down on top of them from the fifteen foot drop.

                Both men shouted when Greycrow’s corpse hit the cement floor, making a horrible squelching, broken sound as it did. His head split open, sending a splatter of blood and brains and skull fragments across the floor. Gambit screamed in spite of himself, and Warren pulled him down against him as they pushed themselves against the wall. “Don’t look…just…don’t look, Remy…”

                Another face appeared in the pool of light above them, and Warren snarled. “Callisto! You crazy bitch!!”

                “Hello sweetheart!” she called back blithely. “Have you changed your mind about our little proposal!?”

                The angel-winged mutant spat at her and she laughed for the gesture. “Still some fight in you, I see! I love that in a man.” She turned her eye upon Remy. “As for _you_ , I think it’s time you answered some of my questions!”

                She looked somewhere behind her, “Bring them both.”

                Remy heard something heavy and rusty slide from its place as a previously undetected door opened itself to the right, and three large men stalked towards them.

                Gambit was on his feet suddenly, backing towards Greycrow’s body.

                “Remy, don’t fight! You’ll only make it worse for yourself!” Warren cautioned him. But Gambit was already grabbing some up bits of broken machinery from Greycrow’s armor, which he charged immediately and hurled at the advancing guards.

                Warren barely had time to shield himself from the brightness and heat of the blast, hearing the guards scream for only a second before the noise of the explosion dissolved all other sounds. He felt Remy put an arm under him and lift him, forcing him to use his legs, which were shaky and aching.

                He could hardly believe the man was attempting this, yet the look on the demon eyed man’s face told him he resolve was bullet-proof. He wasn’t going to wait around to be slaughtered like his friend. Warren felt a surge of hope return to him, making him more sure on his feet as they scrambled through the secret door and down the narrow hall.

                “Do you have any idea where to go?” the blonde asked.

                “Non. If you do, now would be the time to speak up.”

                Warren glanced nervously around, then pointed ahead. They ducked through another narrow opening and Warren cried out as his wings were painfully jostled. He nearly fell, but Remy kept him going, all his energy focused on escape.

                He had to get out of here. Back to Logan, away from this nightmare. He was nothing if not a survivor. Maybe he did feel he deserved death and judgment for his past sins; but not like this. And not with innocent lives attached. And certainly not at the hands of these _lunatics_.

                The found themselves suddenly thrust out onto a narrow cat walk, overlooking another run off pipe. The water was churning and the current looked treacherous, but as Remy looked it seemed to lead off down a hill and very faintly he could smell fresh air.

                “Don’t move!”

                Gambit turned, Warren still clinging to him, to see the girl called Marrow had corned them, ready to fight. “You’re _not_ getting away!”

                “Desole, chere, but if you t’ink for one minute I’m gonna sit around and wait to be slaughtered by dat mad woman, you crazier den she is!”

                He gripped the guard rail and her eyes widened. “If you jump you’ll drown!”

                “Maybe, maybe not.”

                Warren was trembling, glancing back at the rushing water below them. The fall alone would probably kill the man in his battered state, and Remy realized with a sinking stomach that the man probably would not be able to swim on his own. Jumping might mean freedom for him, but it surely meant death for the man beside him.

                He took in another deep breath, still smelling fresh air far off, and then gently released his companion, allowing him to slump to the ground. The blonde looked at him fearfully from his huddled position, certain the other man was about to abandon him.

                Instead, Remy stepped closer to Marrow. “Let him go, and I am all yours.”

                She stared at him. “What?”

                “I will surrender to you, quietly, if you allow this man to go free.”

                “I…this is some trick…”

                “No trick, chere.” He put his hand on her arm and let her position the pointed spike of bone to the soft spot under his chin. “I am de bigger prize, am I not? Your mad leader will surely forgive you for losing one lesser prisoner if you apprehend me.”

                Nervously the young woman looked from the demon eyed man to the one crouched on the ground before her. She knew Callisto had plans for the winged mutant, but to have finally captured Gambit after so long…

                “What if I take you both?” she asked quietly, trying to sound more serious than she felt. The man before her gazed at her, red pupils boring into her green ones. “Den you shame your poor mother, who died so you could live.”

                His words seemed to knock the wind out of her for a moment, for she stood there, frozen and staring. They heard voices from far off then and Remy waited, knowing what was to come. He held his breath, waiting.

                The girl pulled the shard of bone away from his throat and instead turned and shut the door behind her quickly, breaking off a piece of the bone itself and jamming it into the knob. “Pick him up, we’ve got to go.”

                “What…?”

                “Are you stupid?” she spat at him. “Pick him up and let’s _go!_ ”

                Remy did as he told, barely believing it was happening. He shoulder Warren again and followed Marrow’s lead down the catwalk, heart racing in his ears.

 

***


	7. Chapter 7

 

***

               

                Nightcrawler lead them along narrow allies between the make-shift homes of the sewer dwelling mutants towards something he called “The Citadel”

                “Here they have taken many prisoners lately,” the blue skinned mutant explained as they crept along, one at time in the narrow walkway, where there was hardly move to turn around, much less do battle if necessary. Logan prayed it wouldn’t be.

                “Not other Morlocks I’m guessing,” Wolverine grunted behind him. The man called Kurt shook his head.

                “People from the surface, all mutants I believe. What they do to them in that place, I do not know. I only know that once they go in, they are never seen again.”

                Logan tensed behind him and Jubilee gripped at his arm and he gave her hand a squeeze to reassure her. Kurt looked back at them again as they paused in a cross section between shanties. Logan could see another opening looming ahead of them in the dim lantern light, where this tunnel ended and another vast drainage area began.

                This area of the tunnels was larger still, the high ceiling surely leading all the way back up to the streets above. Water trickled down the walls from small drainage pipes, emptying into little run off trenches below. Built into the high sloping brick were what appeared to be stairways and bridges, joined by long rows of what looked like boxed openings to other rooms and doorways; all recently built.

                In the center of this great cavern was a high-walled area, over-looking a plain floor that seemed stained and discolored, and in the center of that was a large grate. People were everywhere, emerging and disappearing from the curious openings upon the high walls, and lining the seats of the arena below.

                “It’s like a god damn bee-hive.” Wolverine muttered.

                “Do people live in those holes?” Jubilee asked, looking to Kurt.

                “Some do, I believe. Others lead to various pipes and tunnels. I could lose myself for ages trying to explore them all, but they are fairly well guarded by Callisto’s gang.”

                “Who is Callisto?”

                “The leader of Morlocks. A strange woman, prone to violent out bursts and what would seem like fits of madness. But she is nothing compared to Masque.”

                “And Remy is somewhere in here?” the girl asked again, looking more nervous all the time. She wondered how they were every going to get him out, and how they would ever find Storm and Cyclops again. Things seemed bleaker and stranger all the time, and she was beginning to wish she had stayed at the mansion.

                Kurt turned to Logan again.“This man you seek, he is your freund, yes?”

                “More than that,” the feral mutant replied quietly, staring at the tunnel before them, trying to detect some weakness, some way of getting in and getting Remy out in one piece without having to kill too many people. “What do they want with them, these prisoners? Why are they taking them?”

                “I have heard much talk of revenge from the people lately,” Kurt said quietly. “For what, I do not know, but they have blood on their minds. Masque is an especially hateful creature, inciting violence among them. Callisto keeps in him check, but for how much longer I’m not sure.”

                “I don’t give a shit about their politics. I’m getting my man back, and then they can all rot down here as far as I’m concerned.” He moved forward, but the other man grabbed at his arm, pulling his back.

                “Do not be hasty, mein freund! I would not wish you to come to harm.”

                “Elf, they haven’t invented the thing that could keep me down for long. Now if you’ll excuse me…” he continued to stalk forward to the edge of the opening, Kurt nervously following him.

Jubilee put a hand on his shoulder, “It’s no good, honey, trust me. He’s in Knight –In-Shining Adamantium-Armor mode. He won’t stop until he gets Remy out of there.”

The golden eyed mutant seemed both confused and intrigued by this idea, “That’s very valiant of him, but surely he does not think himself a match for those people down there? They are most dangerous.”

“Trust me, he’s the best at what he does.”

“And what is that?”

“You’ll see.”

**

 

                Beyond the arena, in one of the many hive-like dwellings of the tunnel, Callisto waited impatiently for the return of her search party. She sat upon an old antique chair, drumming her fingers along the arms and glaring out into the room. The air vents that served as windows, she could still see a great deal of bustling activity beyond, people calling to one another as they searched, and the steady chant from the arena beyond, demanding the trial proceed.

                “They couldn’t have gotten far,” one of her subordiantes, who stood beside her spoke then. “This place is a labyrinth to any but us. They’ll be caught or killed the deeper they try to venture into the sewers.”

                “I know that.” She answered sharply. “That’s why I’m worried. I need them alive, _both_ of them. I can hardly collect ransom for a dead body. And Gambit…” she dug her ragged nails into the air of the old chair, making it creak in protest. “He’s not going to escape his punishment a second time. Not on my watch.”

                There was the sound of a door opening to their right and a figure appeared, hooded and cloaked in red. He threw back his shroud the moment he entered, glaring at the woman before him.

                “Have you any idea what is going on under your very nose?” he snarled at her. The one-eyed woman looked at him tiredly.

                “Spare me your dramatics, Masque. The situation, as it is, is being handled. I fail to see what concern it is yours anyway. Shouldn’t you be out preaching to the people, or frightening some children?”

                He glowered at her with his mismatched eyes, moving closer so that he could stand beside her, leaning down to hiss in her ear. “There are _intruders_ in our tunnels, Callisto. Mutants, calling themselves _X-Men._ It seems they’ve taken issue with your latest capture.”

                Now the woman turned to him, looking very troubled indeed. “That’s not possible. Surface dwellers can’t find the tunnels on their own. We’ve made sure of it.”

                “Well they have, and if they found the way, soon more will follow.” She stood and moved away from him, unnerved by his closeness and his leering eyes and twisted smirk. “How many?” she demanded.

                “Two, but I suspect more.”

                “Two little mutants are not so much. Deal with them, however you please. I have bigger matters to worry about.”

                “Your precious trial?”

                “Scalphunter has been dealt with. All that remains to be judged are LeBeau and Creed.” She turned back to him, “And the later has proved valuable. You will honor our end of the bargain and return him to his true form.”

                Masque seemed displeased with idea. “Why should I? Now the beast has a face to match the wickedness of his soul.”

                The woman pulled a dagger from his belt and pointed it at him; “I’ve had enough of your back talk. You think I’m ignorant of what you’ve been doing to our new recruits, but I see more than you know. You will cease your mindless defacing of our brethren, Masque. Your envy is nothing if not sickeningly pathetic.”

                He hissed at her, “I would be careful, Callisto. Very, very careful. You’ve been leader for a such a short time; you shouldn’t let all that power go to your head.”

                “Fuck you, old man. If it weren’t for me, we all would have perished by now. So unless you plan to meet me in honorable combat; Masque, I expect you to obey and remember your place.”

                He bowed his head, conceding to her for the moment. “Apologizes.”

                She rolled her eye and kicked him away, knocking him to the floor. “Get out of my sight, old man. You make me sick to my stomach.”

                He gathered himself and slunk away, off through another portal opening. He muttered to himself as he stalked along in the darkness, until he found himself no longer alone.

                “That was truly pitiful display,” a voice chuckled before him. Masque peered up to see another figure standing in the adjoining doorway. He was tall, heavily muscled, wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans and high leather boots. On his forehead was bright red diamond shape which seemed to gleam in the dim light between the shadows.

                “I allow the woman her illusions of superiority. If she had any idea of what I was doing, she would have put an end to me long ago.” He answered as he moved past the figure into the room, which was sparsely furnished and appeared to be some sort of study. He glanced back at his guest, “I did not expect to be seeing you again so soon, Mr. Essex.”

                “Nor would you, except that something of mine has come into your possession. I want it back.”

                Masque raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “And what would that be?”

                “The prisoner, LeBeau. You will collect him and turn him over to me, _alive_ and untouched. Is that abundantly clear?”

                The disfigured man considered these words, staring at his meager collection of odd books which lined the shelves. “Hmm, so much fuss over one meager little man. But I have to wonder why you care about getting this one back alive, when you seemed so unconcerned with the rest of your former mercenaries.”

                “They were a dime a dozen,” Essex answered with a knowing chuckle of his own, “But LeBeau…LeBeau is a special pet project of mine. Irreplaceable. I would even be willing to raise my usual price for him to be returned in good condition.”

                Masque smiled; “Is that so?”

                “Name it.”

                “Maybe I want more than money.”

                The tattooed man sighed; “Power is something I cannot obtain for you. Besides, you seem to be doing very well on that front all on your own. I expect an uprising any day now against Callisto. Tell me, will you indeed take to the surface streets, as you promise, and bring your wrath upon human society?”

                “All that and more. But I don’t need you to give me power to do that,” Masque replied. “You do, however, possess great knowledge of manipulating and creating mutant kind. I want you to fix my face.”

                Essex smirked; “Really Masque? Such a vain request?”

                The twisted mutant moved towards the bigger man, unafraid of him, raising his hand and holding it just inches from his face. “You know what I am capable of. I have ever been able to manipulate the forms of others, but never my own. It’s my eternal curse. Undo it, and when the uprising begins, I shall bring you plenty of subjects for your research.”

                The other man smiled. “Ambitious of you. Very well, I accept your terms. But only a _fter_ you bring me Remy LeBeau.” He turned to leave, “Oh, and Masque…don’t touch him. If he’s altered in anyway, our deal is off and you will find yourself on _very bad_ terms with me.”

                “Understood.”

                “You’re a ruthless man, Masque. You’ll do well when Apocalypse finally comes.”

                The elderly man didn’t bother to ask what he meant, seeing that the man had already vanished down the tunnel as if he had never been.

 

**

               

                Remy had lost track of where they were going. Marrow lead them down so many twists and turns that he could no longer tell even what direction they were moving in. Warren was growing heavier all the time, barely flirting with consciousness, but Remy kept encouraging him, urging him on just a little more.

                Finally the man’s legs gave out entirely and Remy was forced to stop. “Wait! Hold up,” he called the girl in front of them. “He needs a rest.”

                Marrow looked back at him callously, “What makes you think that’s an option?” she quipped with a shrug of her shoulders.

                Remy glared at her; “Have you no compassion, girl? De poor man is half-dead! A moment, dat’s all I ask.”

                She sighed with irritation and nodded, and Remy leaned Warren gingerly back against the wall, trying to make him comfortable. “Your people make a habit of dis? Kidnapping and torturing others of your kind?”

                “That’s quite the bold question, coming from you.” She retorted. “Whatever reason Callisto has for keeping him , I’m sure it’s justified.”

                “Extortion ain’t a justifiable reason.” He muttered. His own exhaustion was creeping up on him as he settled next to the other man, who had become limp and unresponsive. The air down here was damp and choked, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. Still he struggled to keep his wits; they might be his last saving grace.

                She was watching him closely, seemingly unsure of what to make of him. He turned his eyes on her at last, looking at her with a barren expression. “If you’re leading us somewhere to kill me, promise me you at least get him someplace safe first.”

                “Why do you care so much about him? You don’t even know him.”

                “I know. But I’ve known what it’s like to hit rock bottom, and how much a small kindness can mean to someone who has.” He smiled sadly, thinking of Logan and wondering if he would ever see him again. “Someone I love very much showed me dat.”

                Marrow let out a mocking little laugh that sounded somewhat shocked, raking her fingers through her short pink hair as she stared up at the ceiling, pacing nervously around the man. “You’re really something, you know that? Here you sit, acting like some kind of saint, when you—“

                “I _know_ what I done!” he shouted at her. “You don’t need ta keep reminding me! I’ve been a lot of t’ings in my life, I’ve made a lot of bad decisions, and have paid for _all_ of dem with my own sweat and blood, and I’ve never for one second believed it wasn’t my own damn _fault_. Dis…dis is no exception. What I did to you…to your family, your friends…can’t ask for forgiveness.” He bowed his head tiredly, “I was only t’inking about myself…but I never, for a moment really thought he had _dis_ in mind.”

                “He?”

                Remy shook his head, having forgotten she was even listening for a moment. “I got no quarrel wit you or your kind, petite. Only reason I came here dat night was because some ordered me to. Someone I hate more den you can imagine.”

                “You were sent here by someone? Tell me!”

                “What’s de point? You t’ink you and your little friends are gonna corral him and bring him down here to face justice de way you did de others? Ha! I’d pay good money to see dat, chere.”

                She dropped beside him and thrust her knife of bone beneath his chin again, grabbing his hair. “Tell me his name, now!”

                “Boy, I sure am sick o’ dis already,” the Cajun muttered. “You ain’t no killer, girl, not really. If you were, ya would have finished me by now. Dis all you know? Violence and threats?”

                “I know how to defend myself.” She answered.

                “Against what exactly? I’m spent, petite, got no more energy left in dis husk to beat you in a fight. De air down here is too hard to breathe…”

                She seemed to realize for the first time that he was in fact struggling, and that he hadn’t yet tried to harm or escape her. It was all a shock to her system, as she had played this day over and over in her mind for months, and never once did she see this as a possibility. The man she believed to be a cold blooded killer was really very ordinary, hardly villainous, and surprisingly remorseful.

                She moved her weapon away, instead pulling him to his feet, “Do you think you can carry him a little further? There’s a way out just a few more yards down where the water empties into a lake. There’s fresh air.”

                Remy hesitated, “Guess I don’t got much choice.” He turned and picked up Warren again, finding him very cumbersome with his wings, and followed the girl at a much slower gait. He began to feel light headed and stumbled a little here and there, and to his surprise, she took his arm and helped guide him along.

                Little by little, he could breathe easy again. There was light at the end of the corridor, leading to another run off of water. Remy breathed it in deep, not caring about the smells mixing with it as long as there was an actual _breeze_ and the feel of cold frigid air on his face.

                He could see sunlight through a large tunnel where the water emptied, though it was covered by a rusty old grate. Remy laid Warren back down upon the floor and turned his face towards the fresh air. Already the light seemed to be reviving him a bit.

                “I was born down here,” the girl beside him said at length, standing at his arm as they leaned on the little railing that ran along the walkway above the water. “The air doesn’t bother me. It must be awful for you.”

                “Lived in a subway tunnel for awhile,” Remy replied. “It’s not so different.” He turned to her, studying her face and her eyes and the line of her mouth. She was so young, probably younger than Jubilee. But she had a hard look in her eyes; the kind of look Remy had seen all too often in the mirror. “I tried to save your Mama, chile’. I’m so sorry I couldn’t. Ain’t no one should have to go on alone de way you did, losing evert’ing. What happened to you, after…?”

                “After you abandoned me?”

                He frowned. “If you want to call it dat. Though seems a little confused, since you claim I kidnap you.”

                She scowled out into the water. “The police took me, tried to put me in a shelter, but they were all afraid of me. So I ran away, and eventually found my way back to the tunnels. There were a few survivors, maybe just a handful. Callisto was one of them.”

                “How come dere so many of you now? Others hiding somewhere?”

                “You and your friends wiped out our colony. We sought help from others in other states, other cities. Some migrated here. We also started taking in other mutants from the surface, little by little, slowly rebuilding.”

                Remy found some comfort in this, but he knew it would never replace those who had been lost. “Why did you leave me?” she asked. “You went through all that to drag me out of there, why did you leave me with those people?”

                “Wasn’t my intention…” he said, shuddering faintly. “But…I thought I was dyin’. And…I didn’t want to die in front of you. Or dat officer. I just…panicked.”

                She seemed confused, so he reached down and lifted up the bottom of his ragged shirt, revealing the scars there upon his torso. “Creed’s handiwork. I’m sure you’ve made yourself familiar wit him, since your boss lady got him to track me down for ya.”

                “Why would he do that to you? Weren’t you friends?”

                Gambit chuckled ruefully, “You so young, chere…so young.”

                She glared at him grabbing his arm, “Stop treating me like a child and tell me what happened that night!”

                Remy gazed at her a moment, her green eyes so angry but searching his for some answer she so desperately needed. She was young yes, but no longer too young to understand the harshness of the world, or the wicked way it sometimes works. What lies, what convenient truths had other people been filling her head with all these months?

                “De man’s name is Nathaniel Essex. He’s a scientist, working for some huge Corporation in New York City. He’s also a mutant telepath, who has for years been taking mutants off de streets and using dem for his scientific research. I was one of them. He was holding me prisoner, doing a lot of very…painful experiments on me. But he came across one of your people, a Morlock, and became fascinated wit your people. He offered me my freedom, if I would lead a team of his choosing into your tunnels. He never told me why. I always assumed he wanted to gather more specimens for his research in mutation.”

                Remy’s hands shook as he shook, but he didn’t look at Marrow, he kept staring out into the sunlight beyond the tunnel, baring his soul, confessing his sins. “I…I wanted to leave so badly. I knew I couldn’t on my own, he already found me twice before that. I needed to find someone…someone I was in love with. I wanted to go home to him, to be with him. It was all I ever thought about, and he knew it. So I let myself be blinded by that, and I lead those people into your tunnels. But when I realized what they had planned…I tried to stop dem. De man, Sabertooth, gutted me for my trouble. By de time I managed to pull myself together, the battle had already started, and I was dying. I was so sure I was dying.”

                Tears ran down his face unbidden, but he kept going, “It is my fault, Marrow. You’re right to hate me. I knew Essex was an evil, twisted man, and I ignored every instinct I ever had. If I hadn’t been so selfish…” the tears came harder now and he covered his face with his hands, dropping to his knees beside her. “All those people…those poor people…”

                Beside him, Marrow stood motionless, observing the man before her in stunned silence. She could feel Remy’s pain, his anguish, his regret, his crushing guilt. She could feel it as surely as she felt the cold air on her skin. She had dwelled so long her own dark thoughts, and the hateful words of others, who vowed revenge and thirsted for blood, that they had warped her perception of what had transpired that awful night.

                _There was silence at last. The screams were distant and fading, the moans and the weeping faded away. Marrow wept from her place upon the floor, pinned beneath her mother’s body, as the woman above her shook and groaned, trying to force the fallen rocks off them._

_“Sarah, Sarah, my baby…”_

_“Hold on!” a voice had pierced the quiet and made them both jump. They saw feet rushing around in front of them, heard someone began to toss away the debris that had fallen onto them. Little by little she could see again._

_A man stood above her, one she had never seen before. His handsome face young, but haggard and pale and beaded with his sweat, and his strange red and black eyes gawked at them with terror and surprise. “Hold on, Madame! I will free you, try not to move! Is de girl hurt?”_

_Sarah began to cry again, partially from shock and partially from overwhelming fear. Was this stranger going to kill them the way the others had? Her mind barely registered the words he spoke, thinking only of how much she hurt all over, and how much she wanted to be away from this place._

_Finally some of the pressure was gone, and the man crouched beside them, pulling them both from beneath the ruins. She grabbed at her mother, but the woman could barely lift her own arms._

_“Mama! Mama, are you alright? Mama say something, let’s get out of here,_ please! _”_

_Her mother’s liquid black eyes looked up at her, and she knew something was terribly wrong, even though she smiled at her. Looking down past her chest, she could see dark blood staining her dress, her legs twisted and mangled and raw. She began to sob, not knowing what else to do, all her senses overloaded. Her mother stroked her face and tried to shush her._

_“Please, take my daughter. Get her out of this place,” she heard her mother say to the stranger._

_“I will take you both out of her, Madame. I promise.”_

_“I can’t feel my legs…I am broken, already finished. I’ll only slow you down. Please, mister, you have kind eyes, gentle eyes. You’re a good man, I know you are. Take my Sarah away from here. Save her.”_

_The man put his arms around her then and she began to sob harder, reaching for her mother, who was no longer talking, no longer holding her hand, just lying there, looking up at her blankly. Some part of her knew she had died. But the rest of was incoherent._

_“Shh,” there was a soft voice in her ear and warm lips on her forehead. The man held her tightly, picking her up, though he felt him shudder and groan as if in pain to do so. “Hold onto me, petite. You are safe wit Gambit. I won’t let dem hurt you no more.”_

_She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his warmth and something else wash over her. It calmed her, at least for the moment, allowed her to breathe. They ran through the carnage and the devastation, darting about in the dark. The screams and the explosions were starting up again in the distance and she gave her own little shriek of fright, wrapping herself more tightly around him. He groaned again, and braced her, making for a ladder on the far wall that lead up to the surface._

_For a moment he hesitated but only for a moment, then began to climb. She heard him groan and grunt with each rung they climbed, and she felt something hot and wet against her thigh and legs as they were pressed against him, until something was running liberally over her skin each time he moved. She looked down and realized it was blood._

_The man screamed as they finally reached the surface, pushing back the manhole cover and pushing her out onto the pavement. He climbed out then too and immediately collapsed on the sidewalk, heaving with cries of his own. She looked down and saw herself wet with his blood._

_There was a rumble of a car then and blinding flash of red and blue light. Sarah laid on the ground, covering her eyes. She heard another voice cry out for help and a car door open and shut. She whimpered and reached for the man beside her, only to find that he was gone and she was alone._

 

                Marrow came back to herself, still staring down at the weeping man at her feet. He had gone quiet, staring at his own hands, his body limp and passive. “You can do it now, petite. I’m ready.”

                She dropped beside him instead and put her arms around him tightly, the same way she had that awful night six months ago. Remy sat, rigid with shock for several long seconds, and then slowly put his arm around her. Neither said a word, but an understanding had passed between them.

                “Whatever it takes, I’ll make dis right for you,” the man said to her.

                “You can’t bring her back. Or any of them,” she answered. She sat back slowly, wiping her own eyes. “Go, get out of here. Take your friend and never look back. Forget we’re here, go on with your life. I’ll talk to Callisto and the others…I’ll make them believe I killed you. We’ll never bother you again.”

                Remy made to protest, but then paused in panic. “Wait…where’s Warren?”

                Marrow looked up and realized that the winged man was in fact missing from the place where Remy had laid him. They both stood nervously, casting about, looking anxiously at the water below, but there was no sign of him.

                Gambit made to turn and look further down the tunnel only to see a cloaked figure emerge from the deep shadows. “That was very touching,” the man beneath the hood croaked, a twisted semblance of a smile on his lips, showing jagged yellow teeth beyond. “A repentant killer and his graciously forgiving victim. I’m sure your friends would be very interested to hear about your change of heart.”

                “Who de hell are you?”

                Marrow stepped in front of him protectively, much to Gambit’s surprise. “Leave him alone, Masque. There’s been a mistake.”

                “The only mistake made here is yours, little girl, for listening to this garbage. He’s only pulling at your heart strings, trying to gain sympathy. He’s an empath after all, that’s what they do.”

                Her eyes flickered to Gambit for a moment in uncertainty, but she shook it off. “You’ve got it wrong! We all had it wrong, the person we should be looking for is some bastard named Essex! He can help us find him!”

                “Oh did he? Another trade, another bargain, Mr. LeBeau? Trading your former employer’s life for your own. How cheaply you view things, young man.”

                “What have you done wit Warren?” Remy growled at the man.

                The robbed figure shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know about any ‘Warren’. If you’re referring to escaped prisoner,” he pointed behind them and Gambit’s eyes widened when he realized how suddenly and easily they had been surrounded.

                “Masque, what the hell is this?!” Marrow barked at him. “Everyone stand down! Do it now! This man is not a threat--!”

                “Don’t listen to her,” the hooded man interrupted; “he’s obviously warped her mind. Subdue him! I’ll take him to Callisto myself.”

                Gambit’s hands crackled with energy as he took up a defensive stance, “Better run for cover, chere. T’ings about to get messy.”

                “Gambit no, they’ll--!”

                But he was already charging into the crowd, grabbing whatever weapon they tried to bring down on him and charging it so that they were forced to drop it or watch it explode in their hands. The Morlocks were viscous but they were slow and unprepared for combat in such a tight space, especially for battling an opponent as skilled as Gambit.

                Within the span of a few minutes he had nullified most of the attack squad, bringing himself face to face with the last two who stood between him and Warren. “Sure you want to hang around, gentl’men? Cause I’m just warmin’ up…and you look like such _nice_ boys. How about you drop ‘em and we call it a draw, oui?”

                The other Morlocks only snarled, more than ready for the fight. One produced a whip from his side which he cracked and sent snapping towards Gambit, who narrowly avoided it’s lash. The other man, hulking and horribly disfigured, made to escape with Warren while his smaller companion tried to hold Gambit off.

                Remy grabbed a piece of rusty railing and broke it off, charging it and sent it hurling towards the escaping man. It crashed into him just as it exploded, causing him to fall. Unfortunately, he also dropped Warren, who slid to the edge of the walkway and was about to go over into the water.

                Remy shouted and leapt after him, grabbing the man just as he fell. The other mutant grabbed hold of another section of railing to keep himself from going over as well. His muscles were stretched to capacity, and he found himself unable to pull himself back up. “Warren! Wake up! You have to wake up!” he shouted, but the winged mutant remained unconscious.

                “Hang on!” Marrow cried, moving to his aid only to have Masque strike her from behind and knock her to the ground. The robed figure moved towards the trapped mutant. “Drop him.”

                Gambit glared back at him, sweat beading his face. “You gonna kill me, you ugly fucker? Might as well go ahead, cause I ain’t lettin’ go otherwise.”

                Masque bent next to him, producing a short electrical prod which sparked with electric charge. “One way or another, my unfortunate friend, I am delivering you to your old friend. I suppose he will forgive me if you are a little singed in the process.”

                At that moment there was a loud rumble, like a thunder crack, followed by a blazing red flash that knocked the prod from Masque’s hand. Remy gasped as two familiar figured appeared at the other end of the tunnel; Storm and Cyclops.

                “I’d back off it I were you,” Scott warned the robed man as he moved forward. Masque turned to attack him, causing him to defend himself with another optic blast. But the shot went wide, and struck the rail that Remy was clinging to.

                He shouted as it broke in his hand and he and Warren both went forward, for a moment hanging in free fall above the white rushing water. But they never reached it, for the next second a huge gust of wind pushed both of them back up into the air, and Storm swooped forward, grabbing both of them and easing them back down on solid ground.

                “Much obliged, Stormy!” Remy beamed at her breathlessly, grabbing the tall woman and pressing a grateful kiss to her cheek.

                “Are you hurt, my brother?” she asked. Gambit only shook his head and bent to check Warren quickly before turning to look for Marrow. He cried out when he saw her lying inert on the ground and rushed to check her for injury.

                “Gambit, are you alright?” Scott called, still holding back Masque, which Storm kept the others at a distance with her wind powers.

                “Fine, mon ami. You don’t know how happy I am to see you!”

                “Where’s Wolverine and Jubilee, are they with you?”

                The redhead turned towards his fellow team mate with wide eyes. “Dey…dey down here?” he gasped.

                “The intruders from earlier,” Masque said suddenly, diverting their attention. “I’m sure they’ve been dealt with already.”

                Gambit turned upon the old man, red eyes flashing with light, “Dey better be unharmed, old man, or I swear—“

                “What? You’ll kill me too? Or maybe you’ll get the last of your friends to do it for you, just like before. I’m sure Sabertooth would come if you only called.”

                Cyclops glanced at him, “What’s he talking about?”

                “Spoutin’ lies, seems all he could do wit dat twisted face of his!” Remy spat back.

                “Don’t shoot the messenger,” the Morlock replied, “I’m only suggesting you cut your losses. You’ve caused enough damage down here to last for a life time, Mr. LeBeau. I’m sure Mr. Sinister will forgive you if you leave a few of us alive.”

                Scott now turned directly to Remy, gawking at him. “Mr. Sinister?” he gasped, his voice quiet and on edge. Gambit shook his head, shocked by the words as well and blinked at his team mate, who was moving closer to him now, Masque all but forgotten.

                “You _worked_ for _Sinister_?”

                “You…know him?” It was too much, Remy couldn’t quite process what was happening. There were too many questions in his head and too many emotions battering his shields. Suddenly Scott’s was taking up all of his focus as it moved seamlessly from confusion to betrayal and then rage.

                “Tell me right now, Gambit, is he in your head? Did he send you to spy on the X-Men?”

                “What…? Non!”

                Masque laughed softly and Storm turned her focus from the other Morlocks to her quarreling teammates. “Scott! What are you doing!?”

                “Logan told me you were involved with something but I never dreamed it was…. _him._ ”

                “Mon ami, listen to me, dis man is tryin’ to—“

                Scott surprised him then by punching him hard in the face and sending him to the ground in a heap. “You little bastard…why did I ever let--?”

                “SCOTT!” Storm bellowed, but it was too late. As Cyclops turned, Masque reached out and grabbed his face with his hand. Cyclops screamed in pain and fell to the ground, clutching his face. Storm rushed to help, sending a blast of lightning at Masque and momentarily blinding him. He screamed and staggered away, allowing the woman to move towards her friends. She bent over Cyclops’s writhing form and gasped in horror when she stared at his now marred and twisted face.

                “Storm, look out!” Remy shouted, but Masque had fallen upon her too. The woman screamed in agony when he grabbed her neck and shoulder and he watched as horrible veins began to appear all across her skin, racing up to her temple and down her arm, warping it, causing bones to twist and lesions on to appear.

                “STOP!” Remy screamed.

                Masque glanced up at him placidly. “Surrender now, or I’ll twist them both into a shapeless blob.”

                “Yes! YES! I go wit you, just don’t hurt her no more!”

                Masque relinquished his hold, though the woman did not return to normal, and allowed her to slump over onto Scott. Remy remained where he was; defeated.

                Masque turned back to the remainder of his lackies. “Take them all back to the Citadel. I’ll handle Mr. LeBeau myself.”

                Someone among the crowd moved forward, reaching for Remy, “He’s goin to Callisto, old man. You’ve had your fun.”

                The white haired Morlock blinked in surprise, starting forward, but the younger man produced a rather deadly looking dagger and pointed it at him as he secured Remy by the neck, “I am more than capable of dealing with—“

                “I _said_ he goes to Callisto. Someone get Marrow out of here, she’s been through enough.” He dragged Remy to his feet, pushing him in front of him. The other man went without a fight, nothing left in him.

                Masque followed nervously after, realizing his deal was about to fall right through his gnarled old fingers.

 

***


	8. Chapter 8

 

               

                Logan stalked along around the periphery of the crowds, watching, smelling, waiting. Every muscle, every nerve was on edge, ready to pounce, ready to fight. His mind played over a dozen scenarios every few minutes, trying to determine how he was going to get everyone out of here in one piece. So far, he couldn’t think of a way in which he wouldn’t have to gut at least a dozen or so people.

                These Morlocks were strange. He had not been present at the time of the first Massacre, the horrid event that stained the hearts and minds of so many mutants and was still impossibly fresh for some. But he was aware of the Morlocks before then, if only by happenstance. But these were a different breed.

                He sensed anger, unrest, despair and fear in them. While the Morlock’s by nature had been reclusive, many due to their extreme mutations, these people seemed to be twisted in ways that seemed…too similar to one another. Almost as if they all came from the same family of mutants. Their deformities were severe and startling and seemed to inhibit them in many ways. Others, who seemed more of the old school, strangely kept their distance from the others, a look of trepidation in their eyes.

                Something was very wrong was happening down here, but he hadn’t the time to discover what. Right now, his only concern was getting Remy out alive. These people weren’t likely to let him go without a fight; and Logan was more than prepared for such a thing. Despite what the other X-Men thought, this was more than just a rescue mission. This was _personal._

                Running out of cover, he pulled the hood of the discarded jacket Kurt had given him up over his head, allowing it to cover some of his face. He was glad that he was still wearing his street clothes and not his uniform, which allowed him to blend more easily into the background.

                Taking a deep breath he stepped out into the busy street and began to make his way towards the area doors. He caught a whiff of Remy’s scent and felt his stomach clench. The smell was faint and vanishing…Gambit had been here, but he didn’t seem to be here now.

                There was a shout from beyond and Logan followed the gathering crowd towards the bleacher seats. He stopped behind a pair of younger men, who were hollering excitedly. “What’s going on?” he grunted.

                They spared him only a momentary glance and then went back to their spectacle, the one closest to him saying; “Oh they’re about to bring out that big fella with the teeth and claws! The one they call Sabertooth!”

                Logan grunted and moved off, watching the crowds and letting his nose guide him. Indeed, he did smell Creed, very close by in fact. The crowds thinned and a sentry or two was posted. Logan didn’t have much trouble slipping past them, as they were easily distracted when he knocked into a big fella, who turned and thought it was the innocent bystander beside him, and immediately started to brawl with the man.

                Wolverine made his way in the little tunnel beneath the seats, and soon found himself standing face to face with his old enemy, Victor Creed.

                The mutant had looked better. Chained and bound in a cage, he looked ragged, beaten and half starved, a shadow of his former formidable self. He lifted his head when Logan approached, and the other feral saw that his face was still twisted and mutilated.

                “What are you doin’ here, runt?” the other mutant growled.

                Logan stood at the bars, studying him. “You _know_ why, Creed. How’d they get you? And where’s Gambit?”

                The blonde laughed low in his throat, the chains around his neck jingling and clanking as he did so. “I thought something was up with you and him, the way you come barreling at me out there in the woods. All these years, Logan, and you still manage to keep it interesting.” He licked his lips and fixed the dark haired man with a strange look; “What’s he taste like? Spicy I bet…”

                Logan showed him in claws and bared his teeth and Sabertooth laughed, even the though sound was hollow and cracked. “Tell me what they’ve done with him and I set you loose. Otherwise, you rot in here.”

                “How should I know what they’ve done with the little Cajun cunt? Probably killed him by now. See, someone’s put it in their head that he’s the reason they had a recent population decrease…”

                Logan reached through the bars of the cage and dragged the man forward by the hair, shoving his claws beneath his jaw, ready to put the blades through his brain. “And who might that be I wonder? _Essex_ maybe?”

                “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t take orders from that _freak_ anymore. But if yer expectin’ me ta say your little boyfriend is just an innocent pawn in all this…well, I might just have to ruin yer day.”

                Logan said nothing, but Creed sensed that he had unnerved him. He relinquished his claws and stepped back, slicing through the bars of the cage. Creed pulled against his bonds and Logan moved to unshackle him. “You realize,” the other man snarled quietly, “that I may just kill you as soon as you do that.”

                “You’re welcome to try, Victor.” Logan answered, cutting the chains where they were attached to the floor. “It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.”

                Creed turned as if ready to pounce, and Logan readied himself for attack.

                “Hey! Who the hell is this?!” Someone shouted, catching their attention. They turned to see a handful of men standing at the opening of the tunnel, with what looked to be electrical prods in their hands.

                “Run for it, Creed. Don’t say I never did nothing for ya.”

                The blonde laughed and took off as Logan charged the oncoming group, claws bared. They attempted to shock him into submission, each time only succeeding in making the mutant more angry, until he had thrown at least two of them through the walls of the tunnel and sent the other three scrambling back the way they came.

                He charged after them and found himself standing in the center of the arena with dozens and dozens of Morlocks gasping and cheering at the display in front of them. Whether they understood what was actually happening or not was mystery that Logan didn’t have time to ponder as more men fell on him, brandishing everything from lead pipes to electric whips.

                “What is this!?” a woman’s voice bellowed over the din of the crowd. He turned to see someone new approach from the crowd. The woman looked about as deadly and brutal as she sounded, but Logan was far from intimidated. “Who are you!?” she demanded.

                “Name’s Wolverine,” he replied, turning to face her directly as she approached, her henchmen close by, ready to attack if need be, though Wolverine had already given them somewhat of a beating. “You’ve got somethin’ of mine, and I’m here to get him back.”

                The woman raised an eyebrow, a smirk at the corner of her dark lips. “And whom might that be?”

                “Remy LeBeau, better known to you as Gambit. Yer goon squad kidnapped him; and I’m here to tell ya lady that if you’ve so much as mussed one hair on his head, I’ll take yer other eye.”

                “You could try, little man, but I promise you, you will lose. Gambit will stand trial for the murder of the Morlock people, and he will _die_. If you want him, you can have his remains.”

                “Someone’s been feeding you people a whole lotta shit--!”

                “Callisto!” a voice caught their attention, making Logan glance over his shoulder as more newcomers arrived. An Albino skinned mutant, bald headed and gaunt, came marching forward, shuffling a prisoner along in front of him, which appeared to be Remy. “What’s going on here? Who is this intruder?!”

                The Morlocks behind him took up defensive positions as well, and Logan saw to his dismay that they had also captured Scott and Storm, who looked much worse for wear. The Albino shoved Gambit to his knees, and Logan rushed him.

                “Remy!”

                The man above him brandished a deadly looking blade, “Do not touch--!”

                “Let him be, Caliban,” Callisto called, trailing behind Wolverine. Her subordinate looked on in confusion but complied, sheathing his weapon and stepping back. Logan dropped down beside Remy’s kneeling form, “Darlin’, you alright? Look at me, are you hurt?”

                Gambit lifted his eyes to meet Logan’s and the other mutant was startled to see them full of bitterness and remorse. “You shouldn’t have come, cher…”

                “As if I’d leave ya behind.” Logan scoffed. “It’s alright, I’m getting us all out of here.”

                Another figure moved from behind the crowd, and Logan glared up into the face of the robed figure who called himself Masque. “Interloper, you presume much.” He sneered at him.

                “Just like you presume I’m gonna let you walk away in one piece after you—“ he started towards the man, only to have Masque reach out and grab his face. Remy cried out as Logan screamed, falling backwards, his the left half of his face bleeding and twisted, part of his cheek melted away to reveal teeth and gum.

                Remy moved over him, pulling the wounded mutant into his lap as he groaned. “Stop dis!” he shouted, looking at Callisto and the others. “My friends have done you no wrong! _I’m_ de one you want! I’ll confess to everything, I won’t fight…just let them go!”

                “Rems, don’t…”

                “You’re absolutely right, Mr. LeBeau,” the woman said, glaring at Masque. “You will undo the damage you have wrought on these people, Masque.”

                “But they are--!”

                _“Not_ our concern! Undo it!”

                The ancient looking mutant glowered at her and then put his hand to Logan’s face once more. Wolverine shuddered as his skin began to rearrange itself back to its original form, leaving him gasping and blinking in Remy’s arms. “Now the others,” Callisto commanded.

                Masque shuffled past them, healing Cyclops and Storm in turn. Remy watched, silent and withdrawn, as Logan recovered in his arms. “Darlin, don’t say another word, we gotta get—“

                Gambit leaned in and kissed him and Logan gasped against his lips at the intensity of it. “I’m sorry, cher. I love you, now I must let you go.”

                “I ain’t going anywhere without you!”

                Remy only shook his head, climbing to his feet and standing tall before Callisto and the dozens of watchful wondering eyes that surrounded him.

                “Gambit,” the woman before him spoke, “You stand today accused of crimes against the Morlocks. The charges consisting of no less than murder, conspiracy, abduction and criminal indifference. How do you plead?”

                “Guilty.”

                “Remy, no!”

                “Restrain him,” the one-eyed woman commanded, as Caliban and several other mutants got their arms around Wolverine, forcing him to his knees and keeping him from reaching Gambit.

                Callisto moved closer to the red haired man as the crowd above them bellowed and hissed, demanding blood. “Have you anything to say before your sentence is carried out?” she asked the man before her, removing from her belt a long machete blade that was similar to the one Caliban had drawn.

                “Dammit, Remy! RUN!”

                Gambit ignored his lover’s pleas, staring dejectedly at the floor. “Please…get dem out of here. I don’t want dem to see.”

                Callisto nodded, and Logan roared as they were dragged away. Storm and Cyclops seemed to recover then, blinking around in confusion.

                “Logan, what--?!”

                “They’re gonna kill ‘im!!” Wolverine howled, claws popped and trying with all his great strength to break free, only to have more and more body crushed upon him before someone clouted him across the head with a club and sent him face down in the dirt.

                Storm turned eyes on the scene before her, seeing the one-eyed woman raising the blade to bring it down in a deadly arch across the Cajun’s neck. “BY THE GODDESS, THIS WILL STOP _NOW!_ ” the woman screamed, raising her hand before she could be restrained and sent a bolt of lighting darting across the arena, striking Callisto and knocking her back several feet into the dirt.

                She lay there smoking, half electrocuted as the arena around them erupted into angry screams and yells. Remy fell aside, blinded by the flash, only to be attacked by Caliban, who dealt him a hard blow to the head with the hilt of his own blade, knocking him to the dirt. He made to stab at the man, only to have Storm kick up a howling gale of wind that had them all shrieking and yelling, running for cover.

                “Storm!”

                The white haired mutant turned with some surprise to see Jubilee fighting her way towards them, blasting aside anyone who tried to grab at her with a bright flash of her own powers. Cyclops managed to free himself, clearing the area of threat long enough to gather them together.

                “We have to get out of here!” he shouted to Storm, who nodded, looking towards the ceiling where she could see sunlight. “I can fly us out, but I cannot hold all of you, we have too many injured!” The woman nodded, looking to the downed winged mutant, and Logan, and Remy.

                “You grab Wolverine, I’ve got Jubilee and the other guy!” he called.

                “What about Gambit?”

                “He made his choice,” he said grimly.

                “What--!?”

                Jubilee punched her so-called leader in the chest angrily, “You can’t just leave him here! You _can’t!_ ”

                “No need, fraulein!” A new voice said over the din of the wind storm. They all looked up in surprise to see the mutant who called himself Nightcrawler appear among them, crawling close to the ground to keep his slight body from being swept away. He grabbed hold of both Logan and Remy, looking to the towering woman before him.

               “I will take them above!”

                Storm nodded in understanding, taking Jubilee, Scott and the other man in her grasp before soaring up through the chasm of the Morlock’s underworld, her eyes fixed on the sunlight above, the winds rushing beneath her to help propel her and the others to safety. The stranger vanished with a loud “Bamf” noise followed by a cloud of purple vapor and the lingering scent of brimstone.

                Storm braced herself as they crashed through the grate above them, emerging in the middle of an empty highway.

                All of them gasping, she sat them on solid ground once more, taking a moment to collect her own thoughts and looking around nervously for signs of her friends. There was another loud sound of air being sucked into something, and the three missing mutants emerged, slumping to the pavement.

                Jubilee was first to greet them, catching Kurt as he slumped against her, panting. “Kurt! Are you okay?”

                “Ja, I’m fine…” he mumbled, but his body said otherwise. Logan was stirring as well, blinking around him in confusion. He looked first to Kurt, grabbing his hand and shaking it, “Thanks for the assistance, Nightcrawler. We owe you one.”

                “You’re welcome,” Kurt grinned weakly. He looked worriedly to the other figure on the pavement, who didn’t seem to be moving. “Is your friend…?”

                Logan reached for Remy and turned him over, the man had a welt on his head and seemed to be only unconscious. Storm looked at him worriedly, “Logan, I do not understand…he was going to let that mad woman _murder_ him!”

                “I know, Ro. I was there.” He picked Remy up easily and glanced around at their surroundings, noting the other tag-along lying on the ground next to Scott. “We’re in bad shape. Better call the blackbird,” he nodded to Storm, who pressed the signal button that was attached to her wrist cuff.

                Logan’s eyes slid from Storm to Scott, who was staring back at him, hands clenched, clearly ready for the man to come at him. He moved towards him, Remy still in his arms, and Storm tried to deter him, “Please, my brother, not—“

                Wolverine ignored her, his eyes focused on Scott. “You call yourself a leader?” he demanded. “I want you stop a moment in your self-righteous bullshit and take a look at this man.” Scott glanced down at Gambit, and Logan could smell the guilt on him, but his anger was stronger.

                “Gambit made his own choices. I wasn’t about to let the whole team get taken down because of one misguided—“

                Logan braced Gambit’s figure in one arm and then punched Scott square in the face, knocking him back on his ass. “You’re lucky you didn’t get my claws!” he bellowed at him. “You were willing to let him die, for what?! Some bullshit a bunch of crazy sewer dwellers are spitting? You’re a _joke_ , Cyclops!”

                “He _confessed_ , Logan! He confessed to being part of that atrocity! Not only that, but he’s working for Mr. Sinister!” Scott cried back, getting to his feet, hands trembling in an effort not to strike out at Logan. “Do you have any idea what that man has done to me!? To my family!? And your little fuck-buddy admitted to being his pawn! Go on, prove to me he wasn’t!”

                “Stop this!” Jubilee screamed from behind them. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Tears were running down her cheeks as she sat huddled on the ground next to Kurt, who was staring at them all in dazed confusion. “Stop fighting each other!”

                “The child is right!” Storm added, “I am disturbed by both of you. This is no matter to be brawled about in the middle of the street while our friends lie injured. You will both control yourselves until we return to the mansion, is that understood?”

                Logan’s nostrils flared and growled low in his throat, but he turned aside, “Ain’t goin’ back to Xavier’s. I’ll take care of Gambit on my own.”

                “Logan, don’t do this,” Storm pleaded, “Remy needs help, and more than that; he needs to know the team stands behind him. If these charges are true, then we have to let Xavier know, and then maybe we can find the truth in this mess.”

                “Not gonna let anyone else put him on trial. If he were lying, I’d know it.”

                They heard the rumble of the jet moving closer and Logan found himself mired in his circumstances. His instincts told him to take Remy and run, but running would only mean he thought the kid was guilty, which he didn’t, even now. But Remy had confessed, and even more disturbing, had been willing to die for these supposed crimes. Storm was right…he had to find out of the truth. And the only way to do that was with Xavier’s help.

 

***


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

                Awareness came back to him and he opened his eyes. That alone was a surprise. Remy was sure he was dead, so suddenly being alive was very…unnerving.

                He sat up, realizing he was in bed in Hank’s sick bay, and that someone had undressed him, leaving him in boxers and an undershirt. His body was stiff and sore and his head was ringing, but all of these were minor hurts. It was sundown by the color of the light filtering in through the window, and Remy wondered how much time he had lost.

                Something moved at the edge of his bed and Gambit almost leapt out of his skin when he saw a large pair of golden eyes staring back at him.

                “What de--!?” The Cajun gasped, and the creature next to him darted back in alarm for a moment, skittering across the floor and up the wall, positioning himself in the corner of the ceiling.

                “Please, please! Don’t be startled,” a soft voice, which was thick with an accent Remy vaguely recognized as German.

Remy peered at him in the dimmed light of little room, slowly registering the stranger’s features. The strange blue-black skin, the pointed ears and tail, his three fingered toes and feet which clung so easily to the surface of the walls. But for as strange as he was, he seemed far from a threat. In fact, if anything, he looked more frightened of Remy than he was of him. “My…you’re an unusual one, aren’t you, mon ami?”

The nimble little man returned to the little pool of light above the bed and sat, crouched on the edge like a gargoyle, observing the man upon bed with a gentle smile. Gambit noticed a little golden glimmer about the man’s thin neck and glimpsed the lines of a tiny golden crucifix beneath the open collar of his ragged shirt.

The yellow eyed man followed his gaze and carefully put his hand around the necklace, “Are you a man of God, mein freund?”

Remy smirked softly, pulling his legs up to his chest as he sat looking at the other man. “I was once. Maybe. Brought up in a Catholic children’s home for a time, so…”

“Ah! Then we are brethren, you and I! Both orphans and Catholics. Such a small world it is.” The blue skinned man grinned, and though his teeth looked sharp his smile was too bright and pleasant to be fearful. “My name is Kurt Wagner. The others, they called you--?”

“Remy.” The red head answered quietly.

“Well then, Remy, I am glad to see you are not too badly injured. Such terrible things happened down in those tunnels…I am relieved to be free of them!”

Gambit glanced around the room, hoping to see another presence waiting for him somewhere, and his face fell a little when he realized they were alone.

“Your friend, Logan, he stayed by you since our arrival here, but was called away. He loves you deeply, I can see it in his eyes.” The man called Kurt spoke. He looked surprised then when the demon eyed man tossed off the blankets and climbed out the bed, reaching for his clothes which had been laid out on the chair by the bed, including his trusty trench coat.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t figured that one out yet myself…” he muttered, pulling on his jeans. Kurt cocked his head curiously.

“Where are you going? You should stay in bed until you are well—“

“Desole, Kurt,” Remy cut him off, “It was nice meeting you and all, but I gotta get going.”

“Where to?”

Remy looked hopelessly out the window. “I have no idea.”

The other mutant edged towards him, “I know we’ve only just met, but something tells me that you are in need of a friend. Surely you have many here, why would you wish to leave them?”

Gambit glanced at him in irritation, “No offense, mon ami, but you don’t know de first t’ing about me.” He grumbled, pulling on his coat and searching for his boots. He looked up then with a gasp to see the nimble little man was suspended upside down from the ceiling above him, peering into his face, his curly blue hair dangling down over his elf-like ears.

“I know a man who’s running from himself when I see it,” Kurt replied plainly.

Remy scowled at him and turned away, still searching for his shoes. “Funny thing is, when you run from yourself, you never really get anywhere. If your heart is so burdened, perhaps I can offer my council?”

The other man let out a scoffing little laugh, rolling his eyes as he turned to look at the dangling creature. “Right, thanks, but I ain’t lookin’ for any sermons or absolution.”

“Good,” Kurt answered. “God has already forgiven you, I’m certain, whatever your sin. Forgiving _yourself_ , mein freund, that is something much harder.”

Remy said nothing, just standing in the middle of the room, half dressed and shoeless, staring at the wall. Kurt walked up beside him, peering curiously into his face. “Such strange eyes you have.” He mumbled.

The tall mutant closed them and turned away. “I know. People used to run from me when I was a child. The nuns took to calling me ‘Le Diable Blanc.’”

Kurt chuckled, though Remy didn’t think it was very funny. “I’m sorry,” the elfish mutant added quickly, “but you might be the first remorseful, repentant ‘devil’ I’ve come across. So I do not believe the title suits you.”

Remy gave him a thin smile. “Yer too kind, mon ami. You must want something.”

Kurt scratched his chin, “I do, actually.” His sweet smile turned to a mischievous grin, and Remy had the sudden feeling that the two of them were somehow destined to become thick as thieves. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the kitchens are in this place, would you? After living in those tunnels, eating scraps, I’d do just about anything for a hot meal.”

The demon eyed man put his arm around Kurt’s shoulders, “I t’ink I can help you wit dat, mon frere.”

“Wunderbar!”

 

**

 

                Cyclops paced the lab floor, Jean watching him listlessly while she, Storm and Jubilee waited for Hank’s report on the two new mutants. The tension in the room was thick and troubling. Finally Jean looked to Scott, “You need to step away, Scott. You’re letting your past cloud your judgment. This isn’t like you.”

                He turned towards her, brow furrowed. “Jean, get out of my head.”

                “How can I help it when you’re thinking so loudly?” the woman asked, “You’re overwhelming me in fact. We need to hear Gambit out, learn the truth of what happened.”

                “He confessed to working for Sinister, that’s enough truth for me.”

                “Yes, but in what context?” Storm cut in then, looking between the two leaders of their little origination with as much calm as she could manage, though everyone had noticed that the weather outside had turned into a practical blizzard. “I do not know much about this Mr. Sinister of which you speak, but if he is indeed a telepath as you claim, is it not reasonable to believe that Remy might have been working for him against his will?”

                “More than likely, I’ll say,” Jubilee muttered, glaring back at them all. “Look, nobody was more weirded out when Wolverine brought the guy home than me, but I’ve gotten to know him and he’s just not…he’s just not a _bad_ guy! Something must have happened to him to make him do those things.”

                Scott sighed, rubbing his head; “You’re missing the bigger picture. Believe me, I _know_ Sinister, and he’s a master manipulator. The problem isn’t whether or not Gambit was manipulated by him in the past, but if he’s still being controlled _now_! If he is, he’s a danger to all of us, to the entire Institute! If Sinister were ever able to get his hands on some of the technology, or hell, even some of the _students_ in our care he could pose a serious threat!”

                “If Remy’s just a pawn then why hasn’t he done something already? He’s had more than enough time, and he stays up half the night wandering around the place like a cat! He could have found out dozens of secrets and been feeding them back to Sinister…” Jubilee ranted, until she realized they were all staring at her. She blushed a little, clearing her throat, “…Okay, I get the picture. But the point is he _hasn’t_ done those things. I mean…has he?”

                “Not likely,” Jean answered. “I think he would be trying to learn more about us, about our abilities and our defenses if that was his intention. And he would be better guarded. But I’ve seen his thoughts and none of them seem to denote sabotage.”

                “He doesn’t have to learn things from us, he’s got Logan wrapped around his little finger.” Scott scoffed. Jean cast a wary look in his direction.

                “You may not like Logan, but you _trust_ him. We all do. He wouldn’t give away information like that, not even to Gambit.”

                “The guy has Charm powers, did you forget? He’s an empath too, he could be coaxing it out of Logan without him even knowing about it.”

                “Not possible, stretch.”

                The looked up to see Logan standing there in the doorway, looking sour and grizzly and worn thin, dark circles under this blue eyes and his stubble thicker than usual. He hadn’t bothered to change since they arrived, and his clothes were still damp, dirty and blood flecked.

                Jubilee got up and went to him, hugging him around the middle. “You look beat, Wolvie. Come on, you need to go lie down.”

                “Not tired, kid.”

                “You’re such a bad liar.”

                He tussled her hair and pried her off him, moving closer to the rest of the group. Jean looked up at him worriedly; “How’s Remy?”

                “Still out. Beast thinks he might have a concussion, other than that, not much to worry about.” He glared at Scott. “No thanks to you.”

                “Logan, I had my reasons.”

                “Sure you do, but that don’t make you any less of an asshole in my book. Hope your face hurts as bad as it looks.”

                Storm put her hand on Logan’s shoulder, “Enough, cooler heads must prevail. I think we can all agree that what happened in the Morlock tunnels was extremely disturbing to all of us. The mutants we believed to have been wiped out have remarkably repopulated and seem to have taken on new leadership.”

                “Yeah, the crazy bitch with the eye patch who likes to play executioner and her friend the crypt keeper,” Logan muttered. He touched his face absently, remembering how the man had twisted and tortured it, “That guy came after Jubilee and I after we were pulled into their lair. He seems to be the source of a lot of civil unrest down there, stirring people up into a riot.”

                “Perhaps he is more in control of things than the woman who tried to kill Gambit.” Storm mused. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them. If they came after Remy before, surely they will do so again, and more than likely target us as well.”

                “They can try, but it would be rather difficult for them to breach the Mansion’s securities.” Scott replied. “But your right, we should be cautious, in case they try something again.”

                “And if that happens,” Logan added, looking firmly at the younger man, “do you intend to throw Gambit to the wolves?”

                Scott paused, his jaw hard set as he glared at the older burly man. “No. I don’t. I’m not as heartless as you think, Logan. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt needlessly. But I warn you…I’m not sacrificing all that we’ve worked for here for the sake of one man.”

                “And I would never ask you to.”

                Scott nodded and excused him, leaving to check on Beast and Xavier, who were busy with the other mutant they had rescued from the tunnels.

                Jubilee yawned and stretched, “Gosh I’m tired. I think I’ll get some beauty sleep. Holler if Remy wakes up, or those creeps attack us again, okay?”

                Logan nodded to her and gave her a playful little shove towards the door, and Storm followed her, deciding she could use a little time to regroup as well. Outside the snow continued to fall in large heavy flakes, but the wind softened.

                Wolverine found himself standing alone with Jean for the first time in what felt like ages. He leaned against the wall, staring at his feet, arms folded, and the woman before him remained silent for a time, before finally saying; “I know what you want to ask me, Logan. It’s alright.”

                He looked up at her, his usual gruff expression gone, replaced by one of worry, maybe even guilt. “I know he didn’t do this, Jeanie. Not on his own. I knew I was asking a lot, bringing him back here the way I did, but I never would have done it if I didn’t think it was right. He _needs_ this place. And I…I need him.”

                She put her hand on his arm, “I know.”

                “Kills me ta say it, but Scooter could be right. Sinister could be in Remy’s head, he told me as much before, though he said the guy never used him that way. He just liked to torture him…” He sighed heavily, “But if there’s a chance he could still be there now, watching, making Remy do things without him knowin’…”

                “I don’t think that Gambit trusts me enough to look into this mind,” Jean replied. “But he trusts you. Perhaps there’s a way I could set up a telepathic link between the three of us. I would be able to see through you. Do you think he’d agree?”

                The dark haired feral didn’t look certain, “It won’t hurt him, will it?”

                “Of course not.”

                She looked at him carefully, “You really are in love with him aren’t you?”

                Logan nodded and she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I wonder if he knows how lucky he is.”

 

**

 

                Marrow woke up in her own bed, startled and crying out. As she sat up, the ragged sheets catching and tearing on the sharp edges of bone that jutted from her body, she was greeted by two faces she did not expect.

                “What happened?” she gasped.

                Callisto put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, “You were attacked by LeBeau and his friends. But it’s over now, they’re gone.” The dark haired woman said, her voice hard edged.

                “Gone?” the young girl blinked around in confusion, still rubbing the sore place on the back of her head. The last thing she remembered was Gambit’s confession and then someone surrounding them. “I don’t understand…”

                “The brute overpowered you,” Masque wheezed from behind them. “Luckily I was there to stop him before he sent you to watery grave.”

                She glared at him, “No…no, he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was…we were…” she clutched at her head bitterly. “Ugh, I can’t remember now!”

                “Don’t strain yourself,” Callisto cautioned, though she peered at the young woman curiously. “Why were you alone with LeBeau? I warned you about seeking revenge alone, Marrow, you’re too young to understand—“

                “I’m old enough to _fight_ , I’m old enough to _kill_!” the girl snapped back. “That’s what _you_ taught me, Callisto. And _you_ promised to get me justice for my mother, for my friends! But he’s still out there.”

                The one eyed woman sighed, “Yes, I admit, I have let you down.”

                Marrow climbed from the bed, pacing the little room, arms wrapped around herself. Everything inside her was conflicted and jumbled. “How did he get away?”

                “His other friends from the surface came to his rescue,” Masque replied. “It seems they also let Creed go. They’ve found no trace of him.”

                “Just great…” she sighed. She closed her eyes, trying to recall what had happened. She remembered Gambit kneeling there on the ground, remembered how soft and sad his voice was, but his words were lost. He had told her something important, something she desperately needed to recall.

                “Marrow, we’ll hunt him down. I promise, he will not go unpunished again, no matter what these X-Men say.”

                Masque moved between the two, “Callisto, you’ve taken injury yourself, and the people are very afraid. Why not allow me to take Marrow and Caliban to the surface, and deal with LeBeau and his friends?”

                The leader of the Morlocks considered this for a time, her face set in hard lines as she glared down her subordinate. “I don’t trust you, Masque. Not as far as I could throw you. But, unfortunately I don’t seem to have much choice. Caliban will go with you to hunt down LeBeau, and so will three of my best fighters. And if you so much as warp a single inch of anyone’s flesh while you’re up there, _you’ll_ be the next body that goes into the pit. Understood?”

                “Clearly.”

 

**

 

                Remy took Kurt to one of the smaller rec rooms which was equipped with its own fridge. It was also the place Logan favored, storing his favorite Canadian beer there by the case, knowing none of the kids would bother it.

                Gambit made them sandwiches and told Kurt to take whatever he wanted to drink. The blue imp was eyeing a green bottle of Heineken, and Remy popped the lid for him. “Thanks for helping my friends,” the Cajun said as they ate over the little island counter under the lonely hanging lamp light, watching the snow fall outside and seeing no one except for the occasional shadow that passed in the hallway.

                “I only did what any decent person would do.”

                “Yeah, well, you’d be surprised at how uncommon that is,” Remy replied, taking a drink of his own beer. He remembered Warren then, “Hey, you didn’t happen to see a guy with, um, _angel wings_ , did you?”

                “Actually, I did. The Doctor who calls himself Beast took him away to care for his wings. Such a tragedy, I do hope he is alright.”

                “So do I, homme, he was in a bad way when I found ‘im.”

                Kurt smiled at him. “The devil rescuing angels? You grow more amusing all the time, my new freund.”

                Remy rolled his eyes again, then looked up when he sensed a new presence in the room. Logan was standing there in the doorway, watching him with a look of relief on his face. Immediately the Cajun forgot his hunger, letting the food drop to the counter and moved towards him, the feral closing the gap between them and throwing his arms around the taller man, clutching him close.

                “Logan, I—“

                “Hush, I know.” He kissed Remy’s cheeks and neck and shoulders, holding him as tight as he dared. When he pulled back, he looked hard into the other man’s eyes. “What the hell were you thinking? Lettin’ that woman…”

                Remy wouldn’t meet his eyes, but Logan forced him to, leaning forehead to forehead with the younger man. “Lost ya once, darlin’, couldn’t bare it if I lost ya for good. Don’t ya know that?”

                His lover didn’t speak, but Logan could feel his pain all the same and kissed him lovingly. When he broke away he became aware of the golden eyed mutant watching them from the island, swilling one of his beers.

                “I see you two have met.” He nodded, eyeballing the impish man.

                “Ja! I understand the rush now, eh?” he chuckled, taking another drink. Both men chuckled at the refugee’s sense of humor, then Logan tugged Remy aside, leading him back towards the doorway while Kurt took his food and skittered away into the shadows of the room, climbing to the top of a tall book case and settling there in the corner, out of sight.

                “How’s yer head?” Logan asked.

                His lover shrugged, “Sore, pourquoi?”

                “Cause I gotta make sure the outside’s alright before anyone goes poking around the inside,” he answered. Remy stopped in his tracks, pulling back.

                “What does dat mean?”

                “Easy, darlin’, hear me out.”

                Gambit looked up to see Jean standing there in the hall, looking both nervous and expectant. The Cajun looked between the two and his expression changed from one of fearful concern to subtle anger. “Ah, I see. Crossed de line dis time, eh, cher? Gotta make sure I’m not hiding anymore dark secrets dat might get ya’ll in trouble.”

                Logan took his hand and looked at him seriously, “This ain’t an interrogation. It’s precautionary. I’m afraid you ain’t entirely yourself, Gumbo, not after you almost let yourself get killed.”

                “Dat was my choice,” he answered, “I deserved death for what I done to dose people. And I didn’t do it under no mind control, believe me.”

                “You’re not a killer, and you certainly ain’t no cold-blooded monster what kills women and children!”

                “I sold dem out!” Gambit yelled then, startling both of his companions. “I sold dem out, I brought dose monsters together, I lead them into the tunnels! They never would have found the Morlocks wit’out me, I am as guilty as the de rest of dem!”

                Remy shook with quiet rage, flickers of energy crackling across his figure. Logan didn’t move however, didn’t back away. Instead he moved closer, letting that same energy dance across his own skin, making the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. “Why, Cajun?”

                “It was…de only way…de only way he’d ever let me go.” Remy admitted quietly. “My debt was repaid. I would be free…free to go and find you again. I would have agreed ta anyt’ing…but I swear, I didn’t know he meant to murder dose people.”

                Jean flinched a little, feeling her own psychic shields battered by Remy’s powerful emotional state. Without bidding it, she could see flashes of his memory, both of his first encounter with the Morlocks and their recent venture. One image came to forefront of his mind, that of a young girl with green eyes.

                “The girl,” she found herself saying, briefly catching Logan’s attention. “You saved the girl. Sarah…that was her name. She was the one you saved from the massacre. You saw her again.”

                Remy’s eyes flashed in her direction. “Some hero I am…she all alone in de world, taken up wit dose nut jobs, hell bent on revenge. Dat’s all she got left!”

               “And you t’ink if they kill you, then it’ll make it right? An eye for an eye? That it?” Logan asked.

                Gambit only shook his head.

                “Been my experience, love, that death doesn’t solve anything. Just snuffs out hope and possibility. You deserve to live, Remy, even if you don’t feel like it now. Sinister trapped you, lied to you, coerced you. When you finally had a choice you made the _right_ one. That counts for something. At least to me.”

                “Cher…” He hugged Logan hard, sagging against him, and the big man held him up easily. Jean watched them for a moment and then glanced back, seeing Scott standing there at the end of the hallway, having observed it all in silence.

 

***


	10. Chapter 10

**

                Logan showered, trying to wash the stink of stale gutter water, sweat and blood off his skin. His mind felt like it was going in a hundred different directions at once, and he wasn’t sure where to start. Remy was safe. That one fact he repeated over and over in his mind, needing to constantly affirm it. Gambit was safe, here, with him, out of the hands of crazy Morlocks or mad scientist telepaths. But was the kid safe from himself? Logan could never be sure of that.

                After everything he’d heard from Gambit and everything he’d learned in the tunnels, he was finally beginning to piece together those lost six months from Remy’s perspective. Remy had stooped to dangerous levels, agreed to a devil’s errand, followed a man he had been trying desperately to escape previously, all for what?

                To get back to him.

                Logan toweled himself off and glanced in the foggy mirror, wiping away the steam and glancing at his reflection. He knew he’d go to great lengths for Remy; he had already. But to see the other man do the same for him was… shocking. Almost frightening. Especially for a relationship that was still so relatively new.

                What did that say about him; what did that say about either of them? It spoke of passion, certainly. And recklessness. And devotion. All things that when manipulated could turn dangerous; deadly even.

                Logan pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants and walked back into his bedroom. Remy was sitting on the bed, cards spread out in front of him, playing solitaire, while the radio droned in the background. The dark haired mutant paused a moment in the doorway, just watching him in silence until the demon eyed mutant looked up at him, stray coppery brown hairs falling in his face. “Somet’ing wrong, cher?”

                “Far from.” Logan answered, tossing his towel in the hamper and moving towards the leaner man, slipping onto the bed behind him and drawing him back into his lap, lips at his neck. Remy accepted it, but Logan feel his hesitation, his reluctance. “What’s on yer mind, Gumbo?”

                Remy looked back at him, leaning on his shoulder; “Wondering how it is you forgive me so easily after what I done…you some kind of saint?”

                Logan chuckled warmly, “I’m too drenched in blood to be considered for sainthood, darlin’. Maybe that’s why I understand what your feeling; hating yourself. Ain’t no magic words can cure it, but it gets easier with time.”

                “Not sure about dat,”

                Logan looked him in the eye, “Trust me. In the meantime, don’t go lookin’ for anymore suicide missions. Got it?”

                Remy nodded, but his mind was still far away, looking absently at the cards in front of him. “What happened to de girl?” he asked.

                “What girl?”

                “The one who attacked us on de road, the one wit de pink hair. You didn’t see her?”

                “No, sorry.”

                Remy looked thoughtfully out the window, “Do you t’ink…would Xavier and de others take her on here? She young enough to be a student.”

                Wolverine looked uncertain, “I don’t know, Remy. She tried to kill you, first of all. Second…Morlocks tend to stick to their own kind.”

                “Dis place is supposed to be a haven for mutants in need of guidance, isn’t it? Dat girl, she needs someone to help her find a better path in life. I wanna give her de chance I never had. Please, Logan.”

                “You wanna go back down in that hell hole after some brat that nearly got ya killed in the first place?” his lover retorted, looking at the taller man warily. “You’ve definitely been hanging around the X-Men too long.”

                Remy chuckled and leaned in to kiss him, Logan eagerly accepting, falling back into the sheets with the other man. His kisses trailed from Remy’s lips to his neck and moved further down, pulling the younger man’s t-shirt over his head. He paused then, looking down at him. “You up for this? Been a rough couple days for ya…”

                “Den make it better, cher.” Remy answered, warmly.

 

                Hours later the Cajun was sound asleep in his arms, with Wolverine wrapped around him, sleepily watching the snow fall outside. His heavy eyes slid to the clock, realizing that dawn was close at hand and he smiled. It was the first night since he’d brought Remy home that the Cajun had remained in his bed all night.

 

**

               

                The was no sign of the Morlocks. Classes at the school continued undaunted, but the grounds were closed off, the gates under heavy surveillance by Beast and Storm, who did regular checks.

                Another snow storm blew in, dying the grey world white and frigid. Logan kept close to Remy, and his lover didn’t object. The air in the mansion was heavy, tense and quiet, waiting for the fall out.

                That afternoon, while Logan was training in the Danger Room, Remy went to visit Warren. The other man had been in and out of consciousness over the last twelve hours, hardly coherent. Hank noted that he had been beaten severely and was suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. Beast had done his best to set his broken wing bones, but he was sure it would be weeks before the man could use them again.

                Gambit sat at his bedside, casually flipping through a banged up old paper back, when Warren came to, mumbling something about his father. It sounded like a plea for mercy, and Remy reached over the bed rail and gripped the man’s hand. “Hush, homme, you alright. Look around you, no one gonna hurt ya now.”

                Warren’s blue eyes came slowly into focus and he stared up at Gambit, taking a moment to register his face. When he did, he smiled. “Remy! It’s you!”

                Remy chuckled in spite of himself, “Oui, I’m afraid I have to agree. How you feelin’ now, mon ami? Been a rough night for you, I suppose.”

                “It’s all kind of hazy,” Warren admitted, struggling to sit up and make himself more comfortable without jostling his injured wings. Remy grabbed another pillow and tucked it behind his head, and he sighed gratefully. “How did we get out of those tunnels?”

                “Wit a little luck and de help of some friends of mine,” Remy replied, glancing around. “Dis is de Xavier Institute, a place for people like you and me. My friends, dey been lookin’ after you, will have ya right as rain soon.”

                Warren nodded faintly, “’Xavier’s’?” he mumbled, “that name sounds familiar. In fact, I know it is. My father…oh God, my father…” he looked around worriedly then, sitting up in spite of himself. “What day is it? How long have I been here?”

                “Hey, look at me, homme you got nothin to—“

                “No, you don’t understand. My father is Warren Worthington, head of Worthington Enterprises.”

                Remy just blinked. “Don’t ring no bells, sorry.”

                “He’s one of the richest men in the country…you might know him better as the guy who’s been funding Senator Kelly’s campaign?”

                “You mean de mutant hater on T.V.?”

                “I’m afraid so.”

                Remy glanced at him curiously, “Your daddy knows you’re…I mean how could he…?”

                “It’s complicated.” Warren pulled off his blankets and attempted to stand, but his legs wouldn’t hold him and Remy propped him up. “Easy, easy! I wouldn’t be so eager to go runnin’ home to your mutie hating daddy if I were you.”

                “I’m not…” Warren mumbled, reluctantly letting Remy put him back on the edge of the bed. “The Morlocks kidnapped me, they wanted ransom money from my father. He refused to pay it of course; my father doesn’t deal with mutant rejects. But he’ll come looking for me regardless, and if he finds me here…could be trouble for all of you.”

                “Don’t worry about it,” the auburn haired man soothed, “Dese people, dey take care of each other. I’m sure dey can stand up to your daddy, no matter how much money he got. You’re safe here, Warren. Please, trust me on dat, alright?”

                Warren nodded gratefully and then surprised the Cajun by leaning in to kiss him softly. Remy gently pulled back, gripping Warren’s hand. “Desole, mon ami…”

                “No, I’m sorry,” the blonde amended, looking away, mortified by his impulse. “You probably don’t even like…ugh, I’m an idiot, I’m sorry.”

                But Gambit kept him from pulling away completely, continuing to smile, “I’m flattered, mon ami. De problem is dat I’m spoken for already. Got a man I love, very much. He lives here, I’ll introduce you.”

                Warren nodded, still embarrassed.

                “I’m guessin’ yo’ daddy ain’t too happy about dat either,” Remy asked, giving the man a playful little nudge. Warren shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. “Nope!”

                They laughed together, until Warren glanced over Remy’s shoulder. “Um, this wouldn’t happen to the boyfriend you spoke about it, would it?”

                Gambit followed his gaze to see Scott standing in the doorway. He frowned. “Non, mon ami. Most definitely not.”

                “Funny, cause he sure doesn’t look thrilled to see us.”

                “Not you. Just me.” He stood up and excused himself, following Scott’s lead back out into the corridor.

                “Looks like you’re new friend is making progress in his recovery,” the visor wearing man said as they walked.

Remy nodded curtly beside him, “Don’t beat around de bush, just tell me what you want.”

“To talk,” Scott said seriously, “about our mutual acquaintance; Nathaniel Essex.”

 

**

 

                Scott lead Remy out onto the grounds where they could be alone. The two huddled in their coats against the heavily falling snow, boots crunching along the ground as they walked one of the many paths between the various buildings beyond the mansion.

                “First, let me say that I’m sorry,” Scott began as they walked. “I haven’t made much effort to get to know or understand you, Remy, and I came down on you pretty hard from the start. But I’m sure you understand what this place means to me, what it means to all people like us.”

                “Oui,” Gambit answered. “But you may want to ret’ink your recruitment strategy, if you gonna mistrust everyone who walks through de door.”

                “How long did you work for Sinister? How did he find you?”

                Remy stopped in his tracks, looking at the other man, who was nearly as tall as he was, but with more brawn. Scott was looking at him with those burning eyes behind his ruby quarts glasses, searching Gambit’s face for answers, some sign that the man was deceiving him somehow.

                Gambit scowled; “Why should I tell you?”

                “Because it’s important. I know what Sinister can do, Remy. I know what he is. I’ve known him since I was just a kid.”

                The auburn haired man looked startled, if not concerned at the idea. “How?”

                Scott buried his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, “My parents died when I was pretty young; plane accident. My brother and I were the only survivors. We were taken to a hospital to recover, and about that same time, my powers started to manifest. Essex came in as a specialist, he helped to treat me. He also told me that my brother was dead.”

                “Why would he--?”

                Scott fixed him with a such a look that Remy fell silent, a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

                “Sinister experimented on me for awhile, under the guise of being my doctor. He tried to become my foster parent, but…I started to see through his manipulations. And I ran away from him, but I always felt like he was following me, watching from somewhere. It was until Xavier found me some years later that I was able to escape him completely. My brother wasn’t so lucky.” He sighed, glaring into the blinding cold around them, “He turned my brother into a monster, warped his mind. He would have done the same to me, given the chance. So you can’t blame me for being cautious. You can’t blame me for being afraid.”

                “Non,” Gambit answered quietly. He met Scott’s eyes again, “But I am _not_ your brother, Scott. Sinister didn’t corrupt me, he didn’t warp my mind.”

                “Then why did you help him?!”

                Rem looked at him bitterly, “Xavier may have swooped down and delivered _you_ from that demon, but some of us got to fend for ourselves! And dat means makin’ deals wit de devil…selling our souls…but it doesn’t mean we’re lost forever. Doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a second chance...that’s all I’m askin’ for, Scott.”

                Cyclops heaved another heavy sigh, studying the man in front of him, weighing his options. He glanced out across the grounds then and noticed a figure standing just outside the gates. He squinted at him for a moment, trying to make him out, and suddenly his head felt like it was floating away…

                “Scott?”

                The man seemed to have drifted off into his own little world for a moment, staring at nothing. Remy followed his gaze, but there was nothing there except the empty white landscape. He touched the man’s shoulder tentatively. “You okay, homme? Not givin’ me de silent treatment now, are ya?”

                “Sorry, Remy,” the other X-Man said then, rubbing his head. “but I just don’t think you belong here.”

                “What’s dat supposed to mean?” Gambit replied, shocked in spite of himself. “You kickin’ me out?”

                “If you want to put it that way, then yes. I just don’t think we can help you here. I know Logan will object, but he’s not the authority figure around here. I can set up some place for you to stay in Salem Center until you decide where you want to go.”

                “How generous of you,” the Cajun snarled. “But I t’ink I’ve encroached enough on your ‘hospitality’. I’ll be gone by tonight, won’t give you no more trouble.”

                “I think that’s for the best.”

                Gambit turned and stormed away, leaving Scott smiling in his wake.

 

***


	11. Chapter 11

 

***

               

                Marrow crouched behind some heavy snow laden bushes, just beyond the gates to the grounds. Beside her stood Caliban and Masque, both heavily draped in ragged coats and cloaks to keep away the chill. She shivered under her own heavy guise, standing shin deep in the snow, watching, listening.

                The man at the gate is still watching beyond, silent and menacing, the strange red diamond upon his forehead glowing. Marrow doesn’t like the look of him at all, and hates that Masque has brought a stranger into Morlock business. But, as he has assured her, the ends justify the means. Justice was finally in her grasp. She was going to make LeBeau pay for what he’s done.

                She shivered in the cold and rubbed her head painfully. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, telling her that something was off, something was just…wrong about this whole situation. But she couldn’t remember why. And now, so close to achieving her goal, she couldn’t let herself be distracted.

                “What’s he waiting for?” she hissed to her companions.

                “Quiet child,” Masque muttered. “Do not question what you can’t possibly hope to comprehend.”

                Marrow glowered at him and then looked up hopefully when she heard the crunching sound of footsteps approaching through the snow. The man at the gate smiled as the entrance before him was opened by another young man with short brown hair, wearing red sunglasses.

                “Well done, Scott.” Sinister grinned, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. He turned towards the Morlocks then, motioning them forward. Caliban and Marrow stared cautiously out across the grounds towards the looming mansion beyond.

                “What now?” the albino skinned mutant asked.

                “You will go with my young friend here, Mr. Caliban,” the tattooed brute replied, nodding to Scott. “He will guide your way through the obstacles beyond. Say nothing, let him do the talking. If you come to trouble…you know what to do. Just see that we are undisturbed in our efforts.”

                Caliban nodded and glanced at Marrow. “She’s in good hands. Go on.”

                With one last curious glance the albino followed behind Scott as they made their way up to the house. Marrow looked to the stranger again and found that he changed shape before her eyes, transforming himself into a middle-aged man with a bald head and narrow, intelligent features, sitting in a wheel chair.

                “What the hell?” the girl gasped.

                “Don’t be startled,” the other said. “what you see is merely an illusion. Now, no more hesitations. We must be swift in our endeavor before an alarm is raised. Come with me girl.”

                She nodded nervously and started alongside him as they made their way up the walkway. Masque started behind them, but Sinister turned his head. “Masque, you stay behind.”

                “But…”

                “Someone must keep watch. Stay here.” He commanded.

                Masque sunk back sullenly, gathering he cloaks more tightly around himself, a bitter scowl upon his twisted face. “What good am I out here?”

                “Exactly.” Was all Sinister muttered before turning and wheeling himself away again.

 

**

 

                Logan, sweat damp and still breathing hard, emerged from the training room, dabbing sweat off his face and neck with a towel before tossing it into a laundry shoot nearby.

                “Had a good work out?” Jean’s voice asked him suddenly, causing him to look up in surprise.

                “Hey, Jeanie. Been out here long?” he asked.

                “No,” she replied. “I just wanted to check in. Things settle down between you and Remy?”

                “Peachy,” Logan replied. He cocked his head as he studied the young woman, “But what’s your real question? You ain’t the type to go around looking for gossip, nor the kind to wanna chat about my love life. So what’s bothering you?”

                “Don’t be so defensive, Logan, it’s very unflattering. Though I should be used to it by now,” she answered with a little smirk of her own, arms crossed. “I’m concerned for Remy, that’s all. After what I saw last night…let’s just say I’m starting to understand why you’re so protective.”

                “Gambit’s got demons. We all do. But he’s strong, stronger than maybe I give ‘em credit for. Last night was a bad patch, I’ll give ya that. But he’s better now. I’ve got his back.”

                “And he’s got yours?”

                Wolverine raised an eyebrow.

                “Come on, Logan. I know you’re not the type to open up to people about your problems. Does Remy have any idea what he’s signed up for with you? About _your_ demons?”

                “What are you gettin’ at?”

                “I’m just thinking…it can be difficult when both partners are struggling, but one always has to put on a brave face for the other. Do you understand?”

                Logan sighed and dug into his locker, pulling out a clean shirt and slipping it over his naked torso. “You’re an X-Man, Jeanie. Not a couple’s councilor. I appreciate the concern, but Remy and I take care of each other just fine. Maybe I haven’t shown him my hand yet, maybe there are things I don’t feel the need to burden him with. That’s _my_ choice. Just like it’s your choice not to tell Scott how you really feel sometimes.”

                “Logan…” her voice changed from one of friendly concern to slight betterment.

                Wolverine shrugged his shoulders, “Sweetheart, I’m sorry about the mess I caused between the two of ya when I came here. It was wrong of me to get attached the way I did. But I do care for ya, love ya even. But not that way; not anymore. And you don’t love me that way either, Jean. You look at me and see a stray dog that needs someone to love ‘im, tame ‘im. That’s not what I need. That’s why you and me, darlin’, we’d never work out.”

                “And Remy knows what you need?”

                “Yeah.” Logan smiled. “I ain’t lookin’ for a master, no soft domesticated life on someone’s lap. I need a pack mate. Someone to run wild with.”

                Jean stared at the floor, and Logan thought she almost looked…disappointed. Then, brushing back her hair, she looked up with a smile and leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Then I’m happy for you.”

                They started together down the hallway, the awkward tension between them vanishing as they went, falling into old familiar steps, and accepting this new dynamic between them. It felt good. It felt freeing. At least to Logan.

                “Heard anything from the professor on that Worthington fella? Seemed in a bad way,” the dark haired man asked as they took the elevator up to the main floor of the mansion.

                “Nothing yet, he’s been trying to determine how to contact the young man’s father without creating a huge incident. The Worthington’s are very wealthy, very powerful, and not very mutant friendly.”

                “Figures,” Logan grunted.

                “And what of your friend, the Nightcrawler?”

                “Kurt?” Logan smiled. “Ah, he’s harmless. Another cast off. I hope the little imp will stick around; he seems to be the only around here that enjoys whiskey and Canadian beer as much as I do.”

                As they stepped off the elevator they passed a crowd of young students rushing through the main foyer, off to various classes. The front door opened and Gambit came storming in, head down, hands buried in his pockets. He didn’t even look up at them as he hurried towards the staircase.

                “Rems?” Logan called after him.

                The tall Cajun hesitated halfway up the stairs, glancing down at him. Logan could see in his face that something was wrong. “Remy?”

                Gambit’s eyes slid from Logan to Jean and his mouth set in an even harder line before he turned and hurried up the stairs again, leaving Logan calling after him.

                “I don’t like that look,” the burly mutant grunted. He glanced to Jean. “Where’s Scott?”

                Before Jean could answer the man in question as suddenly coming through the door as well, beside him the tall white skinned albino. Jean looked on in surprise, but even more so when she heard the familiar “snikt” sound of Wolverine’s claws.

                “What the hell is this?” he gasped.

                “Stand down, Wolverine. This man hasn’t come to start trouble,” Scott said evenly.

                “Who is this?” Jean asked, moving forward hurriedly. The strange mutant backed away from her slightly, big hands clenched, red eyes avoiding her gaze. Jean was getting all sorts of readings off him, hearing his nervous racing thoughts.

                _“She knows, she knows…!”_

                “Scott, what’s going on?” Jean demanded.

                “There’s no reason to be alarmed. He just needs our help.”

                “That’s one of the Morlocks from the tunnels, one of the big guys who tried to kill us,” Logan growled, marching forward, claws still drawn. “And you just let him walk in here like it’s nothing? Are you outta yer damn—“

                The next minute Logan found himself being blown back against the wall and crashing through it, his chest on fire from one of Cyclopes’ optic blasts. He snarled and started to lift himself out of the rubble when another blast caught him in the face.-

                Momentarily stunned, he lay flattened to the floor, catching his breath while his healing factor took care of the burning skin. There were screams and the sound of an alarm, and then a body was beside his.

                “Logan! Logan get up!”

                He grunted as he looked up at Jean, who had dropped beside him, forcing a psi-shield around them as Scott continued to fire at them.

                “The _hell_? Has he lost his mind?!”

                “It’s not him!” Jean replied, her voice strained from the effort she was putting forth to protect them. “There’s another force inside his head, someone controlling him!”

                “Can’t ya snap him out of it?”

                “I’m a little busy at the moment!” she grunted through bared teeth.

                Logan was on his feet again, claws ready. “Right. I’ll take the heat, you go around from behind and see if ya get can’t surprise him.”

                “Don’t hurt him.”

                “I won’t…much.”

 

**

 

                Remy was already on the far side of the left wing of the school, and therefore did not hear the commotion below until the alarm began to sound. He paused in shock at Xavier’s door as the emergency lights began to flash bright red, bathing the hallway in an eerie light.

                “Now what…?” Gambit sighed nervously.

                “Remy!”

                He turned and saw Jubilee making her way towards him, looking as unnerved as he felt. “What’s happening? Why is the alarm sounding?”

                “Not sure, petite, but somehow I doubt it’s just a drill. “

                “Should we…I dunno…evacuate?” the girl wondered. Remy put his hand on her shoulder to calm her, unsure of the answer himself.

                “This way, both of you!” a voice called urgently from behind them then. They turned, startled to see Professor X appear around the corner, beckoning them hurriedly down the hallway. The two young X-Men hurried after him, hearing screaming and feeling faint trembles from below.

                Remy stopped and looked back worriedly, not knowing where Logan was or if he was potentially in danger. “Shouldn’t we go help--?”

                “I am communicating with them through our telepathic link, Scott is addressing the issue as we speak.” He ushered the two of them into another room, which appeared to be Xavier’s study, which he turned and locked behind him.

                Jubilee hurried to the windows to look out, but the grounds seemed undisturbed. “Well, at least it doesn’t look like we’re being invaded by an army of aliens or anything.” She sighed in relief.

                Gambit remained by the door, listening for any sign of approaching conflict, and hoping to hear the familiar roar of Wolverine, if only to know he was still breathing. A silly thing to worry about, Gambit knew; after all, Logan was never down for long.

                “You wish you could join them, is that it?” Xavier asked beside him.

                Gambit shook his head, “I ain’t one to go lookin’ for a fight, Professor, but when my friends are in trouble…dat a different matter.”

                “Oh, I know all too well,” Xavier replied smoothly, eyeing Gambit strangely. “That chivalrous streak is strong in you, my dear boy. Too strong perhaps.”

                His eyes flashed faintly red, and Gambit felt his breath caught in his throat. He turned violently then, striking Xavier once, twice, three times about the head with lightning quick blows from his fists until the man was knocked from his wheelchair and sent sprawled on the floor.

                “Gambit!” Jubilee shouted in shock. “What are you doing!?”

                “Stay back, petite! It’s not—“

                He was struck by the girl’s colorful explosions which sent him into the door, half blinded and somewhat winded. Coughing he blinked up at her and saw her moving in for another volley. He rolled away hurriedly, instead tackling Xavier, who had pulled himself into a crouch. Something that should have been impossible, if it were in fact the _real_ Xavier.

                “You let her go! You let her go _now!”_

                “Xavier” grinned up at him for a moment before his eyes began to glow bright red and a familiar red diamond appeared upon his forehead. Jubilee stopped in her attack and fell to the ground, limp and motionless.

                Gambit shouted and leapt up, rushing over to her and turning her over. “I haven’t killed her,” Sinister said, shaking off the guise of Xavier and getting to his feet. “Though you know well I could have.”

                “She’s just a child!”

                “You say that as if it matters to me. I’m not beholden to such sentiments, Remy. A man of science such as myself cannot afford such lofty notions of innocents.” He glanced across the room to another figure who made herself known then and Gambit’s face twisted into a new expression of defeat and despondency.

                “This girl is little more than a child herself, yet she gladly followed me here, all too eager to have your blood on her hands.” Sinister replied, nodding to Marrow.

                “Sarah…don’t do dis!””

                The girl seemed taken aback by the use of her real name. “Why do you…how do you know my name?”

                “Ignore him,” Sinister commanded, the diamond upon his forehead flashing again. Marrow’s eyes clouded and she lost her voice, bending quickly and easily to his will. Remy bared his teeth, lying Jubilee upon the floor as he stood defensively over her, pulling his cards from his pocket. “You manipulative motherfucker! I’m sick of you playin’ puppet master wit people’s lives!”

                Nathaniel Essex smiled, “But I’m so _good_ at it,” he chuckled, enjoying his victim’s frustration. “And I’ve always said that one should never hide their natural talents.”

                Gambit sent a charged card sailing towards his head and moved just in time to avoid it. The explosion struck the bookshelf behind him, sending it toppling over with a crash. Remy took the momentary distraction to move in closer, managing to jump kick Essex in the chest, knocking him backwards over the toppled furniture, then spinning into another kick which sent his head whipping to the side.

                The muscular telepath was not caught off guard long however, recovering quickly and charging Gambit. Remy was able to block several blows, keeping just out of the bigger man’s reach. “Enough of this! Be _still!”_

                Gambit yelled when he felt Essex’s influence try to force him to a stand still, but he pushed the feeling away, coming at the man harder. He struck him with several exploding cards, but Essex was quick to form a psychic shield around himself, deflecting the blows and rendering them useless. He was steadily growing enraged, Remy could feel his influence pounding at the barriers of his mind, causing him pain, but never breaking through.

                “ _Strange_ ,” he thought. _“Why hasn’t he taken me yet?”_

                He fell back after receiving a hefty blow to the back from the hulking man which sent him rolling. His muscles ached, but he was far from ready to stop. But as he shook his hair from his eyes, he saw himself being charged by both Jubilee and Marrow at once.

                With a curse, Remy flipped backward, landing upon Xavier’s desk and dealing both girls blunt force blows to the head and shoulders, knocking them aside.

                “Careful, Remy! You might _hurt_ them.”

                Jubilee let out a scream and began writhing on the floor, acting as though her insides were about to burst out of her. Marrow was doing much the same, only holding her head and screaming bloody murder.

                Essex of course, expected Remy to beg for him to stop. Which was exactly why he was surprised when Gambit lifted the desk, charged it, and hurled it at him. As it exploded in a cloud of splinters and sawdust, Sinister was blown through the wall into the corridor beyond, leaving everything momentarily smoking and ringing in the aftermath.

                The girls stopped writhing, stopped screaming and went limp again. Remy dropped beside them both to check their pulses, and after confirming they were alive, took off after the villain.

                He found the smoldering remains of the desk and the crater it had left in the far wall, but there was no sign of Sinister. The emergency lights were still flashing red, and Remy had a sudden horrible feeling, as though he had just stepped into a horror film.

                “SINISTER!” he bellowed. “What’s de matter?! Giving up so soon!? I don’t believe dat for one damn minute! So get out here and finish it already!”

                “How right you are, Remy…” the wicked, silky voice whispered from within his own mind. Remy turned and saw Jean, Scott and Logan standing at the end of the corridor, all staring at him. “Let’s _finish_ this.” Sinister spoke though Logan, who unleashed his claws as he stalked towards Gambit.

                The Cajun set his jaw hard, a ball of ice in his stomach at what was happening in front of him. “You’re one sadistic son of a bitch, Essex,” he muttered, sweat dripping off his face as he readied more cards and tried to give himself as much room as possible.

                Scott fired on him, and Remy dodged it nimbly, leaping to the side and rebounding off the wall as he fired a volley of cards at the advancing X-Men. But all Jean had to do was wave her hand, and her telekinesis sent the projectiles flying into the wall, where they exploded harmlessly and turned to ash.

                Logan launched himself at him, and Gambit let out a small whimper as he spun into a counter attack, bending to avoid the swipe of his lover’s claws and burying his fists into his gut. Logan spat and stumbled but was quick enough to rebound, slashing Remy across the back.

                Gambit hissed as he felt his skin tear, the claws slashing through the layers of his coat and shirt and drawing fresh blood which spattered the carpet below them. Gambit turned and threw his elbow as hard as he could into Logan’s face, smashing his nose, then kicked his feet out from under him, giving him a swift kick to the jaw that would have rendered him unconscious. If it wasn’t _Logan_ they were talking about.

                Scott fired again and Remy avoided the blast by a hair and took off at a run, needing to put more distance between himself and the more powerful X-Men. He heard, rather than saw, Jubilee and Marrow join them, and knew others would soon follow.

                He needed a way to escape, a way to draw Sinister away from his friends, to force him to focus on just himself. He was keeping just ahead of the rushing back, turning the bend so recklessly that he nearly took a tumble off the railing that overlooked one of the sun rooms.

                “Gambit?” a surprised voice asked.

                Remy looked up to see Nightcrawler crouched in the corner of the ceiling, looking very unnerved indeed. “Vas est happening?!” he gasped.

                “Kurt! HELP!”

                The yellow eyed mutant looked up in shock to see the other X-Men chasing Gambit, seemingly out of their minds with rage.

                “Mein Gott!” He sprang forward and grabbed hold of Gambit just as Cyclops fired another blast that would have surely killed him, disappearing with another loud “BAMF” and cloud of smoke and brimstone.

 

***


	12. Chapter 12

 

***

 

                The pair materialized outside of the mansion in a snow bank. Kurt moaned and slumped to the side, breathless and trembling. Gambit shook the dizzying effects of the teleportation and climbed to his feet. “Hey, you okay little guy?”

                “Ja,” Kurt mumbled, rubbing his head. “Just takes a lot out of me to do zat, ya know, when I’m not prepared. Are you alright?”

                Remy shook his head, “Non, mon ami. I don’t t’ink I am.”

                Kurt looked below him and saw that the snow beneath him was smeared red. He gripped Remy’s arm nervously. “Vat has happened to our friends? Why were they chasing you like that?”

                “They aren’t exactly d’emselves,” the auburn haired man replied. He looked nervously to Kurt, “I don’t know what to do. Others inside might need our help, but if I go back…he may just turn dem all against me.”

                “How very astute of you.” Logan’s voice said suddenly, making them both jump. Wolverine was closing in, his eyes gleaming red instead of their usual blue, Essex possessing him entirely.

                “Run Kurt! Go get help!” Remy said, pushing the smaller man behind him.

                But Nightcrawler hesitated, not wanting to leave his friends alone. He made to pull Remy away and make another escape, when someone swept up behind him and bashed him across the side of the head with piece of piping. Kurt slumped into the snow as Remy cried out, turning to see the twisted face of the robed figure Masque standing behind him.

                He grinned manically at Remy, looking even more horrifying as he did. “No where to go, LeBeau! No more daring escapes.”

                “Enough running, Remy,” Logan spoke then in Sinister's voice. “How many more people are you willing to jeopardize to escape me?”

                Gambit hissed in frustration, energy crackling from his fingers. “Ain’t gonna have no more blood on my hands b’cause of you! You good at pullin’ strings, good at twisting the world around your sick ideas, but ya ain’t so good at getting’ yer own hands dirty! Come out and fight me like a man!”

The tattooed thug appeared in the distance, more of the X-Men following him. Wolverine, who was still ready to attack, still firmly under his control, brandishing his claws at the Cajun.

Masque moved behind him then and grabbed him, twisting Gambit’s arm painfully behind his back and threatening to break it, while the other squeezed around his throat in a choke hold. He laughed in the young man’s ear, his foul breath making Remy wince. “Such a pretty face you have. I think I’ll take it for myself, since you won’t be needin’ it when he’s done with you.”

“Nah, would never work for you, your twisted old bones would stretch it all out!” Remy wheezed, squirming in his grasp.

                “Unhand him, Masque.” Essex demanded as he moved closer.

                “But, I’ve done as you asked!”

                The tattooed thug glowered at the twisted old man, “You’re the vulture that sweeps in to take the scraps of what greater hunters have felled. You disgust me.”

                Masque squeezed his arm tighter around Gambit’s neck, cutting off more air and making the young mutant feel light headed. “We had a _deal,_ Sinister. You’d better hold up your end,” he clenched his arm and Remy struggled for breath. “Or I’ll kill your little test subject.”

                The telepath’s brow furrowed and the strange red diamond appeared again. “Such small mindedness.”

                Masque winced then as he felt an invisible force remove his arm from Gambit’s throat, allowing the young man to drop to his knees, gasping for breath. But that was not the end of it. His hand bent towards his own face, and Masque looked on in terror. “N-no! No don’t make me--!”

                He screamed as he grabbed his own face, turning his power against himself. Masque had never been able to morph his own twisted features into something pleasing or beautiful. His own touch only proceeded to worsen his condition, twisting and bending him into something almost unrecognizable as human.

                Remy groaned from his fallen position on the ground, only to be dragged forcefully to his feet and propelled forward into Sinister’s grasp. “You stupid, selfish little man, you have _no idea_ the trouble you’ve caused me, the delays and setbacks my research has suffered? The _people_ I've had to deal with to get to you? Do you not see the bigger picture here?!” he shouted, shaking the smaller man violently.

                 “When the fuck are you gonna wake up, Essex?! There _is_ no Lord Apocalypse! It’s all in your own damn mind!! The things you imagine, this greater good you think you’re doing for mutant kind, it’s all a _fucking_ delusion! And OsCorp is using your research, _your_ experiments _against_ mutants!”

                For a moment Essex seemed to hesitate, almost startled, considering the other man’s words. But he pushed them away as he always did. There was no room in his mind for doubt. “You owe me, boy. Everything you wanted of me, I gave you. I helped you control your powers, master them, showed you what you could be. What have  _these_ people done for you but shun and shame you? Surrender yourself, you know there is no other choice.”

                “Never,” Gambit panted, looking to Logan, praying he would somehow snap out of his trance and help him. Sinister followed his gaze and smirked; "Your affection for this one is nothing short of stunning, if not all together childish and vain. He can not save you."

                "Maybe I'm de one who needs ta do de savin' den!" Remy brought his knee up into Sinister's guts, knocking the breath out of him and forced him to drop him. Remy found a final card in pocket, which he ignited and sent whipping in front of Logan's face. The flash startled the feral mutant, who dropped back, blinking and dazed. "...Cajun...?"

                "Run, cher, we gotta--!" Essex clouted him across his already injured back, sending Remy face first into the snow. Logan started towards him, only to have the tattooed mutant turn his gaze upon him, who suddenly cried out in agony and fell to the ground, motionless. “I’ll kill them! _All_ of them. Every man, woman and child in this god forsaken place. Is your life, your freedom, more precious to you than that? Are you really _that_ selfish?”

                Remy crawled beside Wolverine and discovered he wasn’t breathing, nor did he feel any pulse. He muffled a whimper, but refused to cry out. Logan would recover…wouldn’t he? As he looked up he found that others were gathering around them, creating an inescapable barrier between him and the outside world.

                They were all there, Scott, Jean, Storm, Hank, Bobby, Jubilee, Marrow…and so many others. All Sinister’s puppets. It had taken nothing for him to enslave the minds of an entire school. And just like Logan, he could turn them all off, with a simple thought. Gambit bowed his head bitterly, tears stinging his eyes. He’d already caused so much pain, so much suffering, he could not do it again.

                Remy brushed his hand across Logan’s stubbly cheek. “You win.” He mumbled quietly to the man behind him. “Just…make dis stop.”

                He felt Logan take a breath under him and wondered if it was in fact Sinister’s doing or not. Around them the X-Men dropped to the snowy ground, dazed and moaning, half conscious and disoriented.

                The scientist moved behind him. “Reason, at long last. One day they’ll thank you, Remy, for the sacrifice you’re about to make. One day when mutants rule this world, when we serve the glory of Lord Apocalypse, they’ll understand. You’ll be a hero.”

                Remy continued to stare at Logan, watching the man breath and slowly recover. His thick fingers curled faintly around Gambit’s. “Never been much good at hero stuff…” Remy mumbled. He looked back at the others lying around them, slow to recover from their ordeal. He heard a quiet voice in his mind then, something that was barely above a whisper. _"Gambit, do not give in!"_

                "Professor...?" Gambit whispered.

                 _"You are unique Remy, more than you know. Essex fears you, my boy, because you are the one thing he can not control!"_

                "What?" Remy felt himself tingle at this realization, still searching the crowd for signs of Professor Xavier, but the man was conspicuously absent. Behind him his enemy was growing impatient. "Enough stalling, LeBeau. On your feet, if you wish to leave this place on your own two feet. Either will suit me."

                 Getting to his feet he turned to look at Sinister. “Funny thought I just had,” he began, looking quizzically at the man who inspired such great fear in him, “You gone through an a _wful_ lot o’ effort just to get to me. Maybe a bit _too much._ I’ve seen ya make people choke demselves to death, drown demselves, even throw demselves outta windows.” He looked around at his friends, “You turned dis entire school against me, all wit just a thought. Wouldn’t it have been so much easier to just…force me to come back?”

                Sinister moved a little closer, trying to touch him, but Gambit staid just out of reach, keeping eye contact with him. The expression on the tattooed man’s face was strange then, almost…pleading. “You are special to me, Remy. It’s your power that will ultimately decide our fate. You came to me of your own free will in the beginning. I have always respected that.”

               “Heh,” Remy snorted, ruby eyes flashing. “You don’t know de first damn t’ing about _respect!"_ He grabbed a clod of frozen earth and let it explode in Sinister's face, knocking the hulking man backwards, blinking away the blinding flash. Gambit rushed him, kicking his knees out from under him and toppling him to the ground, giving him a hard right hook that caused the big man to spit blood. He started to laugh then, loudly, wildly and Essex looked unnerved.

                Below them, Wolverine was conscious again, but continued to lie as still as possible, listening, waiting for his chance to intervene.

               "You ungrateful little bastard--!"

                "Have I made you _angry_ , M'sieur! What are ya gonna do about it den, eh!? Why don't you make me stop! Why don't ya pull dose little telepathic strings of yours and _make_ me listen!?" He threw another exploding snowball at him, which singed the bigger man's dark hair and face. When the smoke cleared, the man other man was seething and he lashed out at Remy with full force, hitting Gambit with a psychic blast that sent him rolling and flipping across the grounds, shredding his clothing and bloodying him. He marched after him, unaware that Logan was following at a crawl. His victim lay stunned and bleeding in the snow, whimpering in pain but still trying to get up. Snarling, Sinister reached down, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him into the air.

               “You _dare_ turn on me, after all I’ve _done_ , after all I’ve _given_ you!”

               “You gave me _nothing!_ ” Remy rasped, a smile still on his bloody lips. “Dat’s just de hell of it, Essex! I never needed you, but you _always_ needed me! You twisted t’ings around in my head, made me believe lies, but you never once made your puppet. And now I finally know why!”

                 He kicked out at the man, forcing his head to snap back. Remy was dropped to the ground again, landing on his hands and knees, but he was smiling all the same, snow damp hair hanging in his wild red and black eyes. “BECAUSE YOU _CAN’T!”_

                Essex made to recover when he was blasted by something from behind, flattened into the snow. Scott was rising from the ground, shaking as he did so. He had stunned the man with one of his optic blasts, but it didn't seem like he could muster another. As he tried to shake it off, Logan pounced on him, claws shining in the cold grey light as he raked them across Sinister’s flesh.

             Gambit felt a weight lift from him, as if her words had broken some invisible chains that had been wrapped around his heart and mind. Sinister had always fought so hard to keep Remy under his thumb for one reason and one reason alone; he was _terrified_ of him. He was up and running then, all his remaining energy rushing forward, building, swelling, making him glow bright like a star. “Logan! MOVE!”

             Wolverine leapt clear of Essex just in time for Gambit to collide with him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, which immediately began to glow. Looking up into Sinister’s face, Remy saw a new expression. _Fear._

            “You fool! You don’t know what you’re doing! YOU NEED ME!”

            “Desole, Essex,” Remy focused all his energy into the man’s whole body was humming with it, “Ain’t your puppet, _no more!”_

            Everything exploded into light and heat. Sinister screamed but sound faded into roar of the explosion. Remy felt everything rush out of him, his rage, his fear, his hatred, his joy…it left him barren and hollow and…finally free. He was falling back into someone’s arms, a frantic voice in his ear, but the words escaped him. Still he smiled as someone lifted his boneless figure and held him close. The strings that Sinister had bound him with, manipulated him with for so long, were finally at long last cut.

 

***

 

                The snow hadn’t stopped falling for days. Outside the world as a landscape of white ice dotted by barren trees and cold brick at the edge of the grounds. He shifted in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of the bed, sighing as he put out his cigar and sat down his book.

                In their bed, Remy was still sleeping soundly, curled on his side in a partial fetal position. Hank hadn’t been happy that Logan had taken the kid out of the med bay after only a few hours of observation, but seemed reluctant to stop him. Now that Remy was stable, Logan thought familiar surroundings would only speed up his recovery. He'd been in and out of consciousness for the last forty-eight hours, never fully waking, mumbling about things the others didn't quite understand.

                There came a knock upon the door. Logan sat up, sniffing, tense in spite of himself, a guard dog roused from his doze. “Door’s unlocked,” he muttered.

                It opened and two figures appeared, Scott and the young mutant named Marrow. The girl looked nervous, Scott’s hand on her shoulder. “Sorry to intrude,” Cyclops said quietly in what he hoped was a disarming tone. “Hank said we’d find you here.”

                “Seems he forgot to mention the ‘do-not disturb’ part,” the black haired man grunted.

                “Can I…can I see Mr. LeBeau?” Marrow asked nervously. Logan surveyed her with a careful eye.

                “Afraid he’s still recuperation’, won’t be much for conversation.” He nodded to the man who was curled upon the bed.

                “Could I just…sit by him for a minute? I’ve got some things I want to say to ‘im.”

                Logan and Scott exchanged glances before the feral finally relented, “Go on. Not sure what good it’ll do ya.” He sighed. As Marrow moved over to the chair beside Remy, Scott moved closer to Wolverine.

                “How is he?”

                “Drained, pretty severely. Might take a few days before he’s back on his feet. Other injuries were minor, thankfully.” He flexed his hand, and Scott knew he was feeling guilty about the claw marks on Remy’s back.

                “Do you remember much?” the brunette asked.

                “No. Except that someone got in my head _again._ Made me do terrible things to people I love _again._ I tell ya, Slim, I’m so fuckin’ sick of it…” He bristled and tried to push down his anger, exhaling deeply through his nose. “Anything more about Essex?”

                “No trace. Hank seems to think Remy’s blast incinerated him, but we can’t be sure. You saw the crater in the front lawn, right?” Logan nodded and Scott smiled; “Quite the spitfire you’ve taken up with, Logan.”

                The blue eyed man gazed at him coolly, “You wanna be chummy now, that it?”

                “I wanted to apologize to Gambit for…assuming things that I had no right to.I was worried about him being a pawn of Sinister, and I turned into one myself. It was so easy for him to manipulate me...I'm ashamed. How can I make it right?”

                Wolverine looked at him bluntly. “You can start by treatin' him like he's part of this team. He deserves it.”

                Scott nodded. “Done.”

                They turned their attention to Marrow, who was talking quietly to the sleeping man on the bed, hand over one of his. “What happened to Masque and that albino?”

                “Masque is in a body bag in Beast’s lab. Seems his body couldn’t handle the stress he put it through mutating it further. It’s pretty gruesome. The other one must have fled in all the chaos. But I don’t think we’ve seen or heard the last of the Morlocks.” Scott replied.

                “Remy wanted to ask Chuck to keep the girl on here, as a student. Think he’ll agree?”

                “Already done. She wanted to tell him the good news.” He gave Wolverine a sympathetic look. “We’ll take care of him, Logan. He’s earned his place here.”

                “Helluva trial by fire,” Wolverine grunted, moving back towards the girl. She looked back at him as he approached.

                “I remember everything that happened now. You know, he saved me twice. Once down there…and once up here. I spent all this time hating him and…I had no idea who he really was.”

                “Things like that happen all the time, darlin’. But you know better now. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened to your family. We’ll do whatever we can to make it right.”

                She shrugged her boney shoulders. “Nice of you to offer, Mr. Logan, but the Morlocks aren’t likely to accept help. We make our own way.”

                “Fair enough. They ever change their minds, I'm sure you'll point them in the right direction.”

                She stood up then, seeming flustered and lost in his presence. It was going to take time for her to adjust, Logan recognized. She’d spent so much time being angry that seemed to have forgotten how to be much else.

                “I’ll come back and check on him later.” She said matter-of-factly, turning to leave, making both Logan and Scott smile at her bluntness. Scott turned to follow her, “Keep us updated, alright?”

                “Sure, stretch. First thing I’ll do.” Logan grunted, settling back beside Remy as Scott closed the door behind him. When he’d gone, Logan breathed a little easier and leaned over Gambit, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

                To his surprise, the younger man stirred beneath him, blinking up at him. “Wolvie…?”

                Logan’s smile lit up his whole face, “Guess maybe there is somethin’ to that whole kiss to break the curse thing,” he chuckled. He leaned close to the Cajun, wrapping him carefully in his big arms. “Oh darlin’, you had this old bastard worried.”

                “Not to worry, cher,” Gambit mumbled in reply, kissing his bristly cheek. “Dis Cajun boy is like a cat, got at least nine lives…well, maybe I’ve burned through a few wit dat last trick. Feel a might unsteady.”

                “Yeah well, that’s understandable after the amount of energy you burned through. You went up like a super nova, Remy. Took Sinister and a good chunk of the landscape with ya. Wasn’t sure you’d come back from that…” He squeezed the man a little tighter. “I may have a healin’ factor, but that don’t mean my heart can’t break.”

                Remy chuckled against his shoulder. “You big pussy cat…” He slumped back against the pillows as Logan propped him up, making him more comfortable.

                “How much do you remember?”

                Gambit rubbed his head tiredly. “Not much…goin’ postal…thinkin’ about all the shit I done for dat monster, thinkin’ I was helpless against him…turned out very different in de end.” He stared out across their bedroom, looking at nothing, his mind far away for a moment. “I should be happy…instead I got dis chunk of ice in my guts. And a whole lotta questions.”

                “Why’s that?”

                “Cause he never controlled me…I let him intimidate me, I let myself believe he had power over me. In de end…everyt’ing I did…I did it cause I was afraid. And dat’s…worse den being a puppet. Cause I ain’t got no one to blame but myself.”

                Logan kept him close, resting his chin on the top of Remy’s head, letting the younger man nuzzle into his neck. The air was heavy, and Logan was turning over all this new information in his mind. He loved Remy, but he was coming to realize that he had barely scratched the Cajun’s surface. There were deeper things to the young man’s past, certainly darker things, and a side of him that was still somewhat lost, concealed in shadow.

                “Thinkin’ ya might have been a bit hasty wit me, eh cher?” Gambit said quietly. “Fallin’ for a man ye don’t really know? Wish I could say dat it’s all in de past…dat I’m changed. Truth is, I’ve spent so much time runnin’ from myself dat I don’t even know who de real me is anymore.”

                “You showed me the real you, Rems. You’ve showed me plenty of times since we met. We all got flaws, ugly sides of ourselves we don’t want others to see…but when the chips are down, people always show their true colors.”

                “So what am I? A thief? A mass murderer? A bomb waitin’ to go off?” He rubbed his head tiredly, looking lost and dejected. 

                Logan kissed him. “The way I see it, darlin’, you just passed through fire and came out the other side; _clean_. All that was passed is burned away from ya now. Let’s start from here.”

                Remy squeezed Logan’s hand tightly, though he couldn’t find the words to express his love and gratitude for the man just then. And that was alright. Logan knew a thing or two about starting from scratch. It had never been easy, and he had always feared the day when those things that had burned away in fires of his own would come back to haunt him. But this time, with the X-Men and Remy by his side…maybe this time it would stick.

                If Remy could move past Sinister and the Massacre…surely Logan could move past Weapon X…and whatever horrors of his past were locked away in his memory.

                “If I have to start over, I’m glad it’s wit you, Logan.”

                “Me too, Gumbo. Me too.”

 

 

***

 

FINI


End file.
